


If I ever get lost

by tenecty



Series: the King and his Guard [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, happy ending for real, heh, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-02 03:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenecty/pseuds/tenecty
Summary: Lost. That's the word for it. China's lost their King, Mark's lost his memory, Donghyuck's lost his Mark. Lost. That's what they all are. Lost.And yet, if destined stars are to meet, even if they diverged, they will always cross, once again.





	1. PROLOUGE

**Author's Note:**

> yoyoyo!! happy new years everyone! i hope you're safe and happy, recharged and ready to take on this new year! this is the last instalment for this universe, and im a little sad that we are nearing the end, but this was a fun and fulfilling journey, and i just want to thank all of you who have read this series thus far. 
> 
> if you're new here: hi!! this fic is part of the series [the King and his Guard](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1210476). the first fic is [Please, stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711855/chapters/39196159), a Johnten fic, and the second, [the Pages we write](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865842/chapters/39603922)
> 
> please note that this fic is a direct continuation of the 'the pages we write', so it is better to read them together.
> 
> enjoy!

**PROLOGUE;**

 

  
“What’s Mongols?” The child speaks with a little lisp, tongue playing with the unfamiliar term.    
  
The man smiles as he strokes the boy’s head, fingers burning through the dirt as he draws a little map. “They come from here.” He draws an ‘x’ a little north. “We are here.” He says, pointing to the south.    
  
“They are blood thirsty people. Excellent swordsmen. Perfect warriors. They’ve got big fur coats, long swords, and the most nasty scars. We never could quite measure up.” The man animates as he speaks, feeding on the boy’s sparkling eyes.    
  
“Really? Even you?” The child speaks innocently; large, warm, brown eyes. Sharp features that the man could trace all day. High cheeks and deep set eyes that could hold the weight of the world.    
  
“Yes. Even me.”    
  
“Did they hurt you?” The boy’s face is already crestfallen, heart aching for others.    
  
“Of course they did. They gave me this.” The man says quietly, as he allows the boy to trace the scar lining his forehead. The boy pouts and the man laughs, true and heartily, as he pats the child’s cheeks affectionately.    
  
  
“How did you escape?” The boy continues to ask, intrigued.    
  
The man smiles. He has told the story a thousand times over—they all have, really—and still the boy wants to know more. He wants to know what the stories are, where the lines are drawn, where they run parallel, where they meet. Inquisitive. A trait synonymous to intelligence.    
  
  
But, the boy has already lost interest, and is running across the courtyard as he flings his arms across a familiar figure, chattery.    
  
  
The man smiles as he touches the small, delicate wrist; warm lips pressed against his scar.    
  
  
He breathes out, eyelashes fluttering shut against his smooth cheeks.    
  
“Hey, sunshine.”


	2. LOOKING LIKE A BLUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter updates may not be so fast, but because the previous one was a prologue, here is chapter one!! enjoy~~

**CHAPTER 1: 2427 LOOKING LIKE A BLUR**

 

 

Mark blinks. The bright light is more than he is used to, and he squints as he tries to make sense of the faces staring down at him, the shouts, the warm hands, the voices. Or rather, a voice. Smooth, soothing. He tries to make out what the man is trying to ask, his vision clearing, his ears unblocked. 

 

“Sir, can you hear me?” 

 

Mark frowns as he takes in the person speaking. He has brown hair, soft chocolate eyes, pale skin. There is a frown etched on his forehead. Mark just nods, as he takes in the stranger. Fear is seeping into his heart. Where is he? Why is here? What is happening? 

 

Who is he? 

 

Panic is causing his heart to palpitate, and he is nearly hyperventilating. 

 

Who is he? 

 

All he can remember is his name, which he holds on to so tightly and desperately, fearing it would slip his grasp. 

 

“Sir? Sir, can you speak?” The voice asks, and his eyes are wide with fear as he opens his mouth, the first words in a long while. It takes a lot of effort to form the words, as if pulling them from the darkest depths of his brain. 

 

_ “Who am I?”  _

  
  
  
  
  


Jungwoo is slightly taken aback when the man speaks Chinese, instead of Korean. He should have known, with those intricate dragon designs on his armour and clothes, his silver helmet, and his tiger sword. He calls in Chenle, who acts as their translator. 

 

Chenle, albeit young, is seemingly comforting the young man, who is at the edge of a mental breakdown as tears flow down his cheeks and he shakes his head rapidly. Confusion is written all over his face, and Jungwoo doesn’t need Chenle to translate to understand, and confirm his diagnosis. 

 

After inspecting the injury on the man’s head, it is no surprise that he is experiencing neurological amnesia, that can be caused from head injury. It is a wonder how the man is still surviving. He has lost a lot of blood, and it is fortunate that a passing Persian had taught Jungwoo how to test blood types just a couple of days before; and he could give an accurate blood transfusion in the nick of time. 

 

However, the injury appears not to just be from a cut, but a hit from a hard object, which explains the probability that his cortex, or hippocampus, is damaged. These two, are areas of the brain that are responsible for converting brief sensory memories to long-term ones, or in a simple analogy, are like a phone cord. If damaged, the receiver cannot hear anything from the speaker, which means, the person is unable to form new memories, or cannot retrieve old memories. 

  
  


In extreme cases, the vacuum of amnesia discards all previous memories. 

  
  
  


Which, is what Jungwoo fears for this young man. He watches the man run his finger over his pin repeatedly, muttering to himself the same words, “I am Mark, I am Mark”. It is the only thing he remembers, and yet, he is holding on to this memory like it would slip out of his grasp, and into the powerful vacuum, if he is not careful and cautious. 

  
  


Taeil pours him a cup of tea, and massages his shoulders, in an attempt to calm the perplexed physician down. 

 

“This is beyond me.” Jungwoo states, breathless. 

 

Taeil just hums, and simply replies, “I know. That’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.” 

  
  


Jungwoo spends nights, burning the midnight oil, as he strains his eyes to read ancient texts on memory loss, the candlelight his only companion, as the rest of his family sleeps. 

 

Meanwhile, Taeil tries to restore some normalcy, integrating Mark into their small family. Taeil, despite having trouble opening up to people, somehow developed a soft spot for their newest addition. His voice is soft and comforting, never pushing or forcing; and Mark is grateful for it.

 

His brain is in a fuzz, the new memories of each passing day, mingling with some snippets of his past that he has no clue of. Like when he sees Chenle weaving flower wreaths, or the embers of fire at the stove, or when Jisung plays sword fight with him. Sometimes, he stops and stares into blank space, his mind in desperate chase after the fleeting memories, but always, always, they leave him, and he hates it. 

 

He is angry, at himself, for not knowing who he is, the only clue to what he once was, a tiger pin and his name. He is frustrated, that he can’t come up with everything, always reaching a blank, or a mess of knots of black, when he tries to think of the time before he was drawn out of the water, before he was put on the table and operated on. 

 

He swears, he is  _ trying _ , but it’s just not working, and he sobs into Jungwoo’s chest, whose heart is hurting for the young man. 

  
  
  


Taeil tells Jisung and Chenle to bear with the temper tantrums Mark throws, and teach them how to help him cope with the frustration. They take him out on relaxing days, lazing in their fishing boats as they run their hands through crystal cool waters, swinging with the slow breeze in their hammocks, tracing figures in the sand. 

 

Chenle speaks to him most of the time, since he knows his language. The boy is patient as he teaches Mark Hangul, and he thinks it is helping. It’s something for Mark to focus on, instead of brooding over lost memories that he so desperately wants to recover. 

  
  
  
  


Mark learns, that Jisung and Chenle are two orphans taken in by the good physician he comes to know as Jungwoo. Jisung was left at Jungwoo’s doorstep as a baby, abandoned by a family running away from war. Chenle, was nearly sold at a slave auction, when Jungwoo outbidded the rich man, and took him instead. 

 

Mark is quick to catch on, that Taeil, the fisherman, and Jungwoo, his saviour and physician, are in no simple relationship. They never say sweet words of love to each other, as he hears, from young couples roaming the beaches under the stars in the dead night of secret rendezvous; but it doesn’t escape his eyes, the way Jungwoo smiles at Taeil, or the contented smile, when Taeil relaxes the knots in Jungwoo’s back. It doesn’t escape his eyes, when Chenle and Jisung nudge each other cheekily, as they drag Mark to their neighbour’s house, to leave the two adults with some time on their own. 

 

Not that he minds, really. But it always does spark something in him, when he watches the two. Something about the way they are so in tuned to each other, so in sync, so  _ touchy _ , has him jolting with unfamiliar memories, quick flashes that leave his head hurting for days. Something about the way they whisper, Jungwoo’s legs draped over Taeil’s lap, as Jisung and Chenle bicker, has his heart aching and pulling, longing for something, or  _ someone _ , that he can’t quite grasp. 

  
  


He tells Jungwoo this, during their therapy sessions. At first, it was hard to tell everything so honestly to a stranger, but now, his physician is no stranger to him, a trusted person, so he spills freely. 

  
  


And Jungwoo quietly stores up these things in his heart, as he tries to map out the life before the man was washed up on his shores, fingers brushing, little by little, off the accumulated dust, over a trail that will hopefully, lead to who the man really is. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When the news that the Mongols have broken the northern borders came in, the Huang residence were up and packing, and out of China in a matter of days, as they escaped south, to Thailand, where they had fortunately set up a office at, earlier that year.

 

It was pure chaos as the customs were crammed with the rich trying to avoid a war that was inevitable, and somewhere at the back of his mind, his heart was thumping in anxiety for the royals back in the palace, but the squeezing bodies, the smell of salt in the air, the long journey through Thailand, has him putting that thought at the back of his head. 

 

But now, here he is, safe in the hot, summery country, his skin soaked in sunshine, his adoptive mother stroking his head, comforting, Renjun humming some light tune as he scans through his books, him, fiddling with his new harmonica, when the thought is extracted and out in the open, a dagger ready to sink in his heart. 

 

And it does, when the servant comes in, rushing her words that are hard for MaMa and Renjun to understand, but easy for him to know, that the worst he had worried for, has come. 

 

Mark, their King,  _ his _ King, is dead. 

  
  


Donghyuck doesn’t feel anything for a minute or two, the shock and surprise, though it should be expected, course through his bloodstream; nerves at their edge as they numb, unable to interpret, unable to quite make out what this all means. 

 

He closes his eyes, Mark’s deep set eyes, high cheekbones, gentle slope of the nose, the most beautiful cupid’s bow. The way he laughs, melodic and infectious; the way he frowns, and the way it dissipates by the littlest touches of Donghyuck’s fingers. The way his lips taste, sweet and sometimes salty. The way Mark is so warm, that Donghyuck could melt into him all day. 

 

And all that, now gone. 

 

The first hiccup of sobs has him wrapped into the cooling house, into his MaMa’s arms, Renjun’s fingers drawing circles at the back of his palm. His eyes are glassy, and no real tears form as he stares into blank space, heart pulsing with hurt, and it hurts so much, to the point where it is numbing, and he feels nothing. 

 

He holds on to his damaged tablet, closing his eyes everyday, memorising Mark’s facial features, desperately holding on to every piece of him, though they seem to break, every single day, into pieces that slip past his grasp. 

 

It’s harder and harder to conjure up his face as time passes by. Sometimes, he feels guilty. For laughing a little too happily, for too much joy filling his heart. He should be mourning, should always be thinking about Mark, and yet here he is, enjoying safety and comfort.

 

His heart is full of the guilt, that he had left Mark by himself, to fend the Mongols. He had run away, with his adoptive family. No honour, no loyalty to their King. No courage. He wonders what Mark would have thought of him, if he knew they had run away, before the tip of a Mongolian sword could even touch them. 

  
  
  


His face twists even more with guilty stains, as the Huangs head back to China. The Mongolians, for all their bloodthirsty nature, are extremely clever in the ways of economics, and have allowed the Chinese to continue their businesses, though of course, the taxes must be paid back to the Mongolian government. They use the ways of the Chinese, with their clever manipulations and skilled ways of handling business, to bring in the money, while they relax in the authority and riches. 

 

His head is bowed, and he keeps it in; but inside, his heart boils and seethes with anger and hatred, whenever he sees one of those bastards walking around, like they rule the whole place. They  _ killed _ , their King, his Mark, and yet they act like they have saved China from tyrannical royal reign. Bullshit. 

 

He clenches his fist as he sweet talks a Mongolian, luring them into doing business with them. That’s what they are; easy to convince, easy to bait, easy to flatter. Foolish. He knows it’s wrong to hate all of them, but the image of Mark, blood stains running his side as he falls to their feet, has him clenching his jaw in fury and rage.

 

And yet, there is a small, small part of him, with a little hope. Ridiculous, he knows, but there is a little part of him that whispers, that Mark is alive. 

 

There was no body recovered, only the escaped soldiers to tell the story, that they saw bloodshed at the edge of the cliff. The Mongols, have taken all the bodies, and he grieves over Johnny, Yuta, Sicheng, and even Lucas. 

 

Johnny, the one and only person who believed in him, who took care of him. The first person he opened up to, the first person he could consider as family, the only mentor who was willing to shape him into a guard despite his weakness. 

 

Yuta, his commander, who had no doubt bullied him into many things, but still, Donghyuck knows that, Yuta, somewhere in his seemingly non-existent heart, loved him. Why else would he have changed Donghyuck’s position with no hesitation?

 

And Sicheng and Lucas; Sicheng, for always looking out for him, for giving him the softest smile when everyone gave him hard glares; and Lucas, for taking care of Mark, when he couldn’t. 

 

He grieves and mourns. So much has been taken from him in the past seven to eight years: his father and sister, Jaehyun, Ten, Johnny, Yuta, Sicheng, Lucas, and now his one and only love, Mark. 

 

He rages against the gods as he drops to the wet soiled ground just outside the tiger’s cave, the large felines licking his falling tears as their furs soak in the rain. Renjun and his mother stands a little behind, letting him have his own space, as he sobs into their necks, wondering how  _ everything _ can be taken from him, just like that. 

  
  
  
  


Time will heal, that’s what they say. It’s complete bullshit, because the wounds in his heart will never heal, if there is no Mark to kiss him gently, fingers kneading and stitching them up. But, Time does help him get used to the pain. His work, now as a manager of one of the biggest branches of the Huang Rice Trade, has kept him busy, and sometimes he forgets about what he has lost. 

 

He dims and extinguishes the lingering hope in him. It has been three years, and no one, has heard of even the shadow of a rumour, that their King is alive. No one has seen him, no one has heard of him, and he becomes one with the tragedy of China’s bloodstained past.

  
  


Nothing, but a lost piece in the yellowed pages of documented history. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and feel free to [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	3. WE ARE IN TOUCH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for all your kudos and comments!! im starting to fall in love with this universe, and im hoping yall will love it too :)

**CHAPTER 2: 2803 WE ARE IN TOUCH**

**If destined stars miss, they will still always cross.**

 

 

“Hey,” Donghyuck softly smiles as he nears the graves. There are no bones residing under them, just stone tablets in memorial of his loved ones. He sits on a wooden stump as he places flower wreaths that he had woven, next to the stones, as he settles and hums a little. 

 

The graves were placed on the top of a hill, where he can always see the way the sun rises. Strange, how it always seemed the same, like any other passing day, when so much has happened to him. It makes him feel very, very small. 

 

“Renjun’s getting married next week. Some Mongolian girl. She’s smart, but cocky and…..I don’t think she likes me much, but Renjun likes her, so I guess that’s enough,” he starts off, whilst peeling some carrots. He likes his hands to be busy, instead of awkwardly in front of him, longing to reach and sink into his dead loved ones’ embrace, knowing he can never do so. 

 

“And then the week after next, I’ll be travelling. Without Renjun. It’s going to be the first time I go on a business trip alone, and well, it’s exciting I guess. I know what you would have said, Guard Seo. You would go all mushy and get teary-eyed and say ‘My baby’s all grown up.’” Donghyuck pretends to rolls his eyes, but instead, tears roll down his cheeks, and he hangs his head as he wipes them. 

 

“I wonder how you’re doing up there. Sometimes, I wish I went up with you, instead of staying here all alone. MaMa’s really sick, Renjun’s getting married, and Mr. Huang’s always busy, and though he loves and respects me, we’re not that close.” 

 

“So, I’m really down to near nothing. No one else I love, no one who will love me. The doctor says MaMa can only last for a couple more months. What will happen then? God,” he shakes his head as his heart clenches at the thought of solidarity, tears in an unending flow, “Fate is so cruel to me.” He whispers. 

  
  


He sighs. He wonders if he should stop this, every single time he visits. It’s no good for the soul, harbouring on what’s lost, what’s dead. He sniffs, and gathers his strength to push out a fake smile, as if anyone would see. He pats the cold stones, and tells them he won’t be able to see them for the next couple of weeks, but then his voice cracks, and he stumbles down the hill, trying to breathe deep, eyes closed, ready to flash a sunny smile at the very people who killed all of them. 

  
  
  
  


The day before he leaves China to Goryeo for work, he goes to the tiger’s cave. Ever since that fateful day, the tigers and him have formed a mutual bond of love and respect, and while he doesn’t have the grace or aptitude to be in tune to them just like Ten and Mark, they make it work, and they always lick his palm when he comes. 

 

Eun Kyung and Bitagram have grown very much, now both four years old, and fully grown, they prance the grounds with ease and confidence, very unlike the clumsy playfulness the very first time he and Mark saw them.

 

Going to them, is always a painful task. It brings flashes of memories of him and Mark, laughing, crescent eyes, sunny smiles, and then it all comes crashing down when he remembers offering to Mark a future with him. Back then, it was more of a choice. Now, it’s an absolute. There is no future. 

 

He ruffles their fur, and sits by the tree Ten and Johnny always sat at, playing his flute, musical notes floating lightly in the air, into the large wilderness. It is winter again, and the place is a fog, but Donghyuck has been here so many times, there is no fear. The white sheet of snow lying the floor, is a soft carpet for his tigers, as he plays his instrument, lulling them into comfortable silence, resting their heavy heads near him, nuzzling their cheeks against his tan skin. 

  
  


Eventually, the fog clears, and the air gets a little warmer. He sighs as the music comes to an abrupt stop, the tigers’ ears shooting upwards at the odd tune. “See you soon, sweethearts.” He whispers as he kisses them on the nose, walking out of the barren land, to where his men are waiting. 

 

He mounts his dark horse, and soon they are flying, flying north, towards Goryeo, heavy hearts pulling them down. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
  


Mark wakes before the crack of dawn, to the light shaking that Taeil is giving him. A warm herbal tea is passed to him, medication to ease his headaches that always come with sunrise. Taeil and him make their way to the boat in silence, sitting in the wooden vessel, swaying with the waves as the nets are let out into the ocean. 

 

Somewhere along the way, Jungwoo had convinced him to stop brooding over what is lost, and focus on what he has. It’s part of his therapy, therefore, to go with Taeil to fish, and then clean what they’ve caught, and sell it to the passing merchants. Though, with narrow eyes, he is pretty sure Chenle and Jisung are just lazy to wake up every morning to do this chore that was previously theirs. 

 

Today, the catch is not much, but it is enough. They take about a third of the load for their own household, and then spend the sunrise cleaning the rest. Today, he is let off the hook, as Jungwoo had requested for him to visit the clinic and learn a little more about medicine and the like. Another part of his therapy, to forget about what is lost. 

 

Though, for this, he is not complaining, because the clinic is always chaotic and full of fun. Or at least, it is to him, when all he does is watch, and sometimes collect some herbs that he is now familiar with, for Jungwoo, while Jungwoo stresses about every single cut, wound, infection, and illness. 

 

The villagers quite like Mark. He doesn’t force himself to fit in; he eases into their lives. 

  
  
  


“Good morning, Ahjumma,” he flashes a smile at the old woman, who returns a toothless one back. She is a regular around here, with ten grandchildren under her care, there is always bound to be one that is sick. “What’s wrong with Do Yoon?” 

 

“Bad tummy ache.” She tells him as he notes it down, clucking her tongue. “Those merchants, always trying to sell us their spices! He had non-stop diarrhea after. Tsk! Never know when they will give you poison.” She whispers, though it is loud, and earns some stares from the other patients. He smiles politely as he gives her her ticket, and places the note in a basket, that will be given to Jungwoo when it’s her consultation slot. 

 

The clinic is full to the brim today, a nearby village being hit by some flu-bug, that has everyone retching. Mark is left to tend to some patients while Jungwoo is speaking to the chief, explaining to him how to distribute the medication, and working out a schedule to visit them. 

 

He is just prescribing Do Yoon some medication, when a man clad in some armour, marches in. The room falls silent as they watch the man walk in with urgency, and yet authority and confidence, as he zeroes in on to Mark. 

 

“Good evening, sir. Are you the physician here?” The man asks, thick with accent. 

 

“No.” Mark replies back. Unlike the rest of the villagers, he is intrigued. The man looks nothing like the people around here. The man looks like  _ him _ .

 

People always think that the Chinese, Koreans and Japanese look the same. That’s never true. There’s a difference, that can always be felt, rather than seen. You just  _ know  _ that they are just not your people. It’s hard to describe it, but that’s what people of shared blood feel. 

 

“The physician is at the back.” He points to the meeting room at the back, but stops the man from proceeding. “He is having an urgent meeting. I am afraid you will have to wait.” The man just furrows his brows, and makes a quick trip out, before coming back in and nodding, tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter. He makes no complaints, but the panic and urgency unmasked on his face, makes Mark feel bad for him, so he pops his head into the meeting room after ten minutes of nonstop tapping of fingers against wood, and Jungwoo is out and with the man in less than a second. 

  
  


Mark ends up having to finish the rounds at the clinic, while Chenle is dragged out of the house to help Jungwoo. He is cleaning the place, snuffing out most of the candles, when someone is brought in. From the retching sounds, to the hushing, he can figure out that the person probably has a bad stomach flu or something to the like. 

 

He can’t really see the patient, with the moon up, and dim candlelights casting shadows all over him, but he can figure the person is probably someone of high importance, because man in armour, presumably his guards, are standing all around. 

 

The concentrated knit of the brows on Jungwoo’s face, and the rapid translation of Chenle, that even he himself, a Chinese, can’t quite catch, has him turning away as he closes the door shut with a soft click. Too many cooks spoil the broth, and Jungwoo hadn’t requested for his help, even though he knows Mark is now proficient in both Korean and Chinese. 

 

He shrugs. No big deal, as he relates the information to Taeil and Jisung. At least now, he doesn’t have to spend an extra hour up, listening to Chenle ramble on and on about his life, when they are supposed to be having Korean lessons. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
  


He has no idea what has got into him, but this is the third time Donghyuck is pressing his hand against the carriage, retching out hydrochloric acid onto the pavements, his secretary soothing his back. Sometimes he gets these motion sickness things, but this time it is clearly not just that. Perhaps nervousness, that he is here without Renjun or MaMa. He shakes his head as his face pales and his vision has spots of black, and he slumps into his secretary’s arms. 

 

His men, subordinates, are all decent people, who love their master very much. They all exchange concerned looks, and before they know it, they are setting up camp near a village, one of them, sent to find the local physician, to see if there is anything that could help their master. 

 

Donghyuck is panicking already, because the meeting is important, and they should have reached Capital tonight, if not for his constant requests to stop, and his sick stomach. He groans as someone opens the tent, and whimpers as he is placed into a cart, and sent to the physician’s clinic. 

  
  
  


He likes this physician, he figures. His voice is soft, melodic, very comforting, as he whispers in Korean, which he can only vaguely understand. Someone, a smaller boy, is translating for him, and he answers the questions as best as he can, before vomiting out to the side pail, the nice physician not minding as he pats his back. 

  
  


He lies back down and closes his eyes as some herbal medication is passed past his lips, and wonders if he is having a fever, the back of his head pressed against his pounding forehead. He must be delirious, for why else would Mark be standing at the edge of the doorway, slipping out as soon as he saw him? 

 

He shakes his head. His vision is blurry with tears, and his stomach is hurting, his head is pounding. He is probably just dreaming. He inhales deep as a chuckle grows in his chest. Maybe he is dying, it feels like it, with his throat burning from the constant vomiting, and Mark is telling him to go home with him. 

  
  
  
  


The herbal medication works wonders, and before he knows it, his secretary has purchased five bottles of it. By morning, before the crack of dawn, he is feeling better, good enough to walk to the carriage. He thanks the physician, Dr. Kim, and they are on their way to their destination, everyone in much better spirits than yesterday. 

 

Even the weather is better, with a light breeze. Now that he feels much better, he can actually appreciate the dream-likeness of the village, with sloping hills that have petite houses on them, descending into a beach with soothing, crashing waves, dots of fishing boats out as the sun rises, making the water sparkle, as fishermen haul up their catches. It’s a simple, slow life, and Donghyuck feels warm, watching the simplistic joy of the villagers. 

  
  
  
  


He smiles as he shakes hands with their Korean counterpart. The deal is sealed and securely closed, and now, they will be importing rice to not just most of China, and Southeast Asia, but also to Korea. Korea is under the Mongols’ tight reign, but they still work quite separately from the rest of China due to geographical reasons, so for their business to come all the way here, is another breakthrough all together. 

 

Their business is expanding, he writes in a letter to Renjun’s father, brush fast on paper, and their works will be up and going in no time. 

 

For the rest of the week, he is working out the little details with their Korean business partner, and he visits the vast paddy fields and factories, chattering with them lively as he lets cold air brush through his locks, the exposed sun warming a little of his skin. 

 

The capital and towns that he visit are all busy, though outside of that, like the little village he visited last night, are much less developed as compared to mainland China. Though, he is sure this investment in them is a well made one, the potential of the earnest and shrewd Koreans, are bound to make the country rich and bustling in no time. 

 

The people are preparing for the Dongzhi Festival, a festival that the Chinese also celebrate, though this year, he wouldn’t be fighting over tangyuan with Renjun, and would instead be here in Korea celebrating with his business partners. 

 

The Dongzhi festival is a time before the winter solstice, and a time where family gathers together under the moonlight, huddling from the bitter cold. Donghyuck always spent these days alone, after the wars, but tonight, he will not. He has guests to entertain. 

 

The tea house is not far from his residence, but Donghyuck likes to prolong the process of getting there. He loves the festivals, soaking in the sights and sounds; the fanciful, colourful lighting, stringing between the closely knitted buildings, the haggling of hawkers, the scoldings from parents towards children who like to weave their way through the chaotic crowd. 

 

The snowflakes are falling, and it’s ten times more beautiful, as a grin makes it way onto his face, as he watches a child hold his palm out, and chuckle at the feeling of light snow on his hands. He too, follows the child’s gaze, into the darkening sky and looming moonlight, white flakes swirling with the softest of breezes. He breathes in the crisp, fresh air, letting the sharpness fill his lungs, masking the longing underneath, of the days he spent with Johnny and Jaehyun, or with Mark. 

  
  


And as if like magic, as his eyes level with the rest of the crowd, the snowflakes slow around him, the crowd blurs into one as they speed walk past each other. He sees a familiar face, and is about to smile and greet the doctor who saved him, when his gaze lands on something shining under the dim lights. It glows and twinkles, and he  _ knows _ that pin. _ He knows it _ . His eyes trace upwards, his tracks stopping dead at the sight.

 

Was he dreaming? Is he delirious? He ignores the shouts of disapproval from his guards as he slips his way and weaves through the crowd towards them. His breath hitches, his heart stuck in his throat as he drinks in the sight of a face, he has tried so hard to conjure every single day of the past three years. 

 

“Oh! You’re the patient from the other day.” The small boy pipes as Donghyuck stares at Mark, looking into the hollow eyes that stare back at him, void of familiarity or even mere recognition. It’s killing him. 

 

“ _ Mark _ .” His voice cracks as he speaks, lips dry, voice hoarse. “Mark.” 

 

Mark, who he thought was dead. 

 

Mark, who is now blinking rapidly. 

 

Mark, who asks. 

 

_ “Who are you?”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	4. WE’RE GOING TO STAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: long chapter ahead! this will be the last update for this week, and the next one will probably be late next week due to busy schedules! anyhow, thankyou all for your comments and kudos thus far, they really encourage me loads :)

**CHAPTER 3: 6105 WE’RE GOING TO STAY**

 

 

“You know him?” The man next to the physician frowns as his eyes shift between Donghyuck and Mark. 

 

“I….what’s-” Donghyuck frowns. Why was the question so weird? Why did Mark ask who he is? Had Mark completely erased him from his life and conveniently left him out when relating to his new family? Was this even his family?  _ No, how is he even alive? _

 

The confusion written on Donghyuck’s face must have been clear to Jungwoo, and the physician clears his throat. Clearly, this is someone from Mark’s past, and since he’s promised himself he will find the missing parts of Mark’s life, he invites the perplexed Donghyuck to his house. The town is too noisy, he explains. His house will be much quieter. Easier for communication. 

  
  


“So,” Jungwoo starts off, pouring a cup of tea for Donghyuck. He is oddly calm, quite the opposite of a still numbed with shock Donghyuck. He just stares at the green leaves floating to the surface, not moving, not saying anything. 

 

“You probably figured out by now, but Mark has neurological amnesia. He has one of the more severe cases, where his previous memories are erased, though he does get brief flashbacks.” Jungwoo switches to his safe mode of giving clear, accurate, medical diagnosis. He doesn’t really know where to start either. 

 

The other four, together with Donghyuck’s secretary, are sitting at a corner. Mark’s eyes gleam from the moonlight; watching, cautious. 

 

“Oh.” Is all Donghyuck manages out. He feels like he just got stabbed. 

 

“I have tried to uncover his past, but to no avail. He’s not from these parts anyway, right?” Jungwoo continues. 

 

“Yes. He’s from China.”

 

“Could you, tell us anything about his past? Who he is?” Jungwoo asks, softly. He is aware of Donghyuck’s panic and shock, and he feels bad for the other. 

 

“He’s,” Donghyuck swallows as his eyes flit to lock eyes with Mark’s. The same eyes, that always held affection, no matter how annoyed or angry, are now hollow with curiosity. 

 

“He is the King of China.” 

  
  
  
  


There is a momentary silence, you could hear a pin drop. Then a scoff, and Taeil is rolling his eyes. “Yea, and I’m the god of the ocean.” 

 

“It’s true.” Donghyuck defends, gritting his teeth. Was it that unbelievable? He looks and carries himself with ease, grace and confidence, that can only be the quality of a royal. 

 

“Taeil.” Jungwoo’s voice is sharp, as he snaps a glare at his partner, who’s smile drops, and turns sour. “What? That’s hardly believable. We barely know this guy. He could be conning us for all we know.” Taeil bites back. 

 

“Why would I con you?” 

 

“Well, I don’t know! There’s rumours that the south are building up rebel troops to go against Genghis Khan. Maybe they need a leader to motivate them, seeing that it is clear who has the upperhand.” Taeil’s words are sharp, and Donghyuck swallows back an insult. 

 

“I am not working for the rebels.” Donghyuck clarifies after a second of glaring down the elder. “I am speaking the truth.” 

 

“How did he even survive?” He asks, swerving the topic to the very important question. It is hardly fathomable. If the soldiers who had escaped were telling the truth, the cliff was high enough to cause a death, even with the running waters below that could break the force of the fall.

 

“We don’t know either.” Jungwoo shakes his head as he taps his fingers against the porcelain cup. “It is a miracle. If he is from China, he must have floated quite far too.” 

 

“Floated?” 

 

“Yes. He was floating on the water-” 

 

“Doesn’t that strike you odd?” 

 

Jungwoo frowns. It does. His face heats up at the mere thought of it. How stupid can he get? 

 

Donghyuck hides a growing grin _. Of course _ . Of course he would float. The Kings,the Imperial Secretary and the Foreign Minister always thought of everything.  

 

“Do you have the coat he was wearing?” Donghyuck asks. It could prove that he is telling the truth too. All royal clothing bear the royal seal.

 

“Yes.” Mark replies, sharp and immediate, Donghyuck almost jumps in surprise. He had kept it, because it was just another fragment, of who he could possibly be. 

 

Donghyuck smiles as the fur touches his hands, soft and dense to the touch, well tailored, as expected from the palace. Never without a touch of luxury. 

 

“It’s otter’s fur,” he explains. “They have high buoyancy. Probably what kept him floating. If he face upwards, he can live for days in the water, even in the lowest of temperatures. It is extremely insulating.” 

 

His fingers turn the coat inside out, as his eyes scan the insides. It will always be in a place not quite known to the public eye; Ten never fancied having large labels that differentiated them from the crowd. 

 

“There it is.” Donghyuck says softly, and his eyes lift just for a second to motion to his secretary. It is only then, does he realise how everyone has closed in, intrigued and amused, wondering the truth in all of this. Only Mark, he realises, sits a little back, a frown etched on his forehead, wondering what to make of all this. 

 

She passes him his dagger, the one given to him by Yuta. It holds the same seal imprinted on the coat; the square, with the words ‘Kingdom of China’ within the four walls, a little tiger at the edge. It is fine work, so intricate in detail, it is hard to replicate without the mould. The only difference between the two, is the colour of the seal, in which he explains to the rest, that red is for the palace staff, while gold, the colour on Mark’s coat, is for the royalty. 

 

“Is this enough proof?” He raises his eyebrows at Taeil, who grudgingly shrugs. “I suppose.” 

 

“The Mongols had cornered them to a cliff near the border. Perhaps that’s how he floated downstream to your little village.” Donghyuck suggests. 

 

“Huh.” Jungwoo says as he sits back, thinking, letting the heavy information sink in. Mark was a King? That was hard to fathom. It was hard to believe. And yet, here was some concrete evidence to just prove the surface of the truth of Mark’s past. 

 

“So, who are you? If you’re a palace staff,” Mark begins, “why are you here?”

 

As expected, Mark’s sharp senses pick up the missing links. It causes Taeil to whisper a ‘I knew it’, and raises the eyebrows of Jungwoo. Donghyuck’s eyes shift, and his mouth is dry. “It’s a long story.” He says quietly. 

 

“Or perhaps, there is no story at all.” Taeil muses as he whistles. Donghyuck narrows his eyes as his heart palpitates. The loopholes in his explanations are not because of the untruth of it, but because the missing links are far too painful for him. Or maybe, in the most selfish of ways, he wants to erase those events. For the both of them. 

 

“I can prove it to you. The people he had relationships with, things he had, everything. His whole life. But it’s all in China. He is Chinese. His life was in China, not here.” Donghyuck doesn’t mean for the words to cut so harshly, but they do anyway, because Taeil’s eyes narrow into something dark, twisted with malice and harsh anger, but Jungwoo places a hand on his arm. The physician appears calm, but something in him has hardened, and he turns cold. 

 

“We will discuss it.” He says simply, standing. Ready to usher Donghyuck out. 

 

Donghyuck nods, wanting to apologise, and yet not quite finding the right words. “I will be in town for the next week,” he informs, before leaving the little cottage, in a little village, at the edge of the Korean peninsula. 

  
  
  


Mark watches the man’s forehead etch with frowns of worry and tension is clear in his body as he sits rigid, brush over parchment, though it hangs over the creamy white sheets, unsure while the black ink drips and stains it. Donghyuck, appears unbothered by it, deep in thought. 

 

He’s not sure why he is here either, but his feet led him to the office of a rice merchant, and he found him here. 

 

Mark awkwardly clears his throat as he taps lightly on the door, Donghyuck’s head shooting up. The frown disappears so fast, and a sunny smile is flashed in less than a second, that Mark would have been fooled, if he hadn’t seen the obvious anguish the man was in, just a few minutes earlier. 

 

“Mark!” Mark’s head is already starting to ache at the chirpy, bright tone. Far too bright for him, it’s almost overwhelming. 

 

“Er, yea.” 

 

“Come in.” Donghyuck graciously says, ushering him to a chair opposite him. He is quick to clear his documents, pouring a cup of tea. “I hope I’m not….interrupting anything.” Mark says, as he eyes the large stack. How old is Donghyuck? How important is he?  _ Who is he? _

 

The last few days have been a blur of confusion. He wakes up in cold sweat more often, head swimming with the littlest of details that don’t make any sense. Snowflakes. A hand over his. Warm brown eyes. A candle. Innocent lips, comforting smiles. He doesn’t make any sense, and his head hurts from having to think so much, so desperately trying to hold on to all these details, no matter how useless they seem, because they hold a fragment of his past. 

 

Then, he realises how stupid he is. Someone has all the answers he wants, and he needs. Donghyuck, right before him, is like an exam answer key. He has everything Mark needs. 

 

“You know,” Donghyuck breaks his chain of thought as he sips the hot tea, “I never thought I would see you again. I thought you were dead. An entire  _ nation  _ thought you were dead. Looks like the gods have played enough.” He adds on cheekily, shaking his head. It seems, like the gods have given him some pity; and didn’t take everything away from him. 

 

Mark just stays quiet, not quite knowing what to say. 

 

“It’s….unfathomable. Like a dream.” Donghyuck says quietly, as if not truly believing it himself. It’s hard to completely accept, someone you thought was dead for years, is actually alive. 

 

“But then again,” Donghyuck sighs, “perhaps the gods are still toying with me, seeing that they had you have amnesia.” Donghyuck clucks his tongue, heart heavy. He wonders if this, Mark alive but with no memory of his past, or, Mark, dead, is a better ending. 

 

“I….I want to know. I want to know my past, who I was, what I was…..everything.” Mark requests, flush running up his neck as he exposes his desires to a complete stranger. 

 

Donghyuck hums. “You are a King.” He says simply. 

 

“....What else?” Mark is asking, as if the King part didn’t bother him the least. Most would be amused, ecstatic, arrogant even. But Mark is just unbothered and bored with it, like it didn’t matter. Donghyuck is briefly amused, reminded of Mark’s earlier days, when they first found him in that alleyway, the same, unbothered, bored expression on his face when he faced Ten. 

 

“You….are a good swordsman. One of the best. You ride superbly. You like to let the windows open, because you like to see the moonlight. You love books; you were always reading and writing.  You’re smart, you’re charming, you’re eloquent. You liked felines, tigers. Always had a special affiliation to them.” Donghyuck is rambling at this point, nearly at the brink of tears, spilling all these details he has stored in his heart, holding on to the fragments and threads of a person he thought he completely lost. Apparently not. 

 

He takes a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m rambling, sorry.” He apologises, eyes lifting just to see Mark looking concerned as he takes it all in. “It’s….probably too much for you. Sorry.” Donghyuck just continues, ignoring the frown on Mark’s forehead. 

 

“How do you know all this?” Mark asks, sharp and inquisitive. His guard is not let down at all. Expected. Mark has always been suspicious of everything. 

 

“I….” Donghyuck had forgotten how smart Mark can be sometimes, always finding loopholes in him. It’s why Donghyuck always found it so difficult to lie to the other, because Mark could always, always read him like an open book. 

 

“Things your close friends and family told me. I have to take note.” He bites the inside of his cheek harder. He really hates lying, but what will Mark say if he had confessed, ‘I was something like your boyfriend, but not really?’ 

 

“Why?” 

 

“What?” Donghyuck starts at the sudden question, the silence between them had stretched for a long time. 

 

“Why did you have to take note?” Mark is frowning, impatient. 

 

“Because, um, well,” Donghyuck is panicking, sweat falling as he desperately tries to search for an answer, “I was your guard.” Guard. It’s a neutral, safe word, he supposes. How else will he describe their relationship, when he himself doesn’t quite know what it used to be? 

 

“Oh.” Mark seems to quite accept the answer, cocking his head as he plays with the term in his head. “So, we were in like a business relationship?” 

 

Donghyuck blinks as he watches Mark stare at him expectantly. He clears his throat. “Yea.” He breathes out.  _ Business _ relationship. It stabs him harder than it should 

  
  
  


“I’ll go to China.” Mark abruptly says, causing Donghyuck’s eyebrows to rise. Had Mark’s brain always worked so randomly?

 

“Er, okay?” Donghyuck replies awkwardly. “I think it would be better if you discussed this with your….family.” He says the last word like it hurts, flinching a little. How easy it is, for family to be replaced. 

 

“They aren’t my family. They just….took care of me. These three years.” Mark says, easily. “But sure, I will.” 

  
  
  


“You know,” Donghyuck starts at the abrupt sound of Mark’s voice. 

 

“For three years, I have been desperately searching for someone from my past. Jungwoo always says it’s better not to think about it, because it makes my head hurt. But there’s just always something missing, you know? I’m glad I found you. Or you found me. Whatever it is.” Mark rambles, before his cheeks flush a dark shade of red, and he stands abruptly. “Thanks again, er,” he stares expectantly at Donghyuck. 

 

What was his name again? Ever since he had amnesia, he always had trouble remembering new things. Jungwoo said that it could be because the hippocampus was damaged and he can’t really form new memories that easily. Or rather, it is very selective, like how he can remember the part of the brain that forms the new memories is hippocampus, but can’t remember the tan boy’s name. 

 

“Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.” Donghyuck smiles a little, amused, as he stretches out his hand. 

 

Mark cautiously fits his hand in, and shakes it. “Mark.” 

 

“Lee.” Donghyuck says. 

 

“What?” Mark asks, confused.    
  


“Mark Lee. That’s your name.” Donghyuck says softly, smiling amicably, before removing his hand, frown on his face as the secretary walks in to hand in another stack. He groans while she laughs, ruffling his hair affectionately. 

 

Mark leaves with a lost look in his eyes as he wanders through town, back to his little village. 

 

_ Mark Lee _ . That’s one information added to the list of the many things he will need to know, about himself. 

  
  
  
  


“Okay.” Is all Jungwoo says, when Mark tells him he wants to go to China. 

 

“Okay?” Taeil says incredulously, “That man-” He stops short as a sharp glare is given to him, and he is reminded of the talk they had in the afternoon, and he shuts up. 

 

“But you can’t go alone.” Jungwoo adds on. He understands Taeil’s concerns. They have just met that merchant for one day; they aren’t going to throw their entire selves into his hands just like that. 

 

“Taeil will go with you.” 

 

“We want to go too!” Jisung pipes out, eyes wide. The mere thought of travelling as both him and Chenle excited. Their entire lives have been stuck within their small village, in a small province. They wanted to see what was beyond it. 

 

“It’s…..not a good idea.” Jungwoo tries to turn them down, but the two younger ones are relentless. He knows they feel suffocated, and they want to go; but the rumours of how dangerous China can get has him on edge. Sending Taeil is already enough for him to worry and fret all day, and now the two younger ones? He might just die of anxiety. 

 

“No means no, Zhong Chenle.” He says firmly, and groans as the younger glares and pouts, rambling about how it’s not fair. 

 

“Nothing in the world is fair,  _ children _ .” He says condescendingly, rubbing his temples, this is getting tougher and tougher. 

 

“We aren’t kids anymore.” Chenle says with measured anger that just borderlines rude. “I’m sixteen and Jisung is fifteen. We are old  _ enough _ , Uncle Jungwoo. You always keep us in, trying to keep us safe, but you’re just restricting us!” He ends in an outburst, huffing as he stalks out, Jisung trailing after him. Jungwoo blows out a breath, trembling with rage. 

 

“How one person can mess up our lives like this,” Jungwoo shakes his head as Taeil rubs his back, “is unfathomable. Maybe you are right, Taeil. That man is no good.” 

 

“Don’t blame your conflicts on Donghyuck.” A voice speaks out, hard and sharp. Jungwoo’s eyes hold a glint as they stare back into Mark’s calm ones. “ _ Don’t _ get me started, Mark. I’m doing this for  _ you _ , and I want _ you _ to be safe. I don’t know that man, and I can’t trust him.” 

 

Mark just clenches his fist, breathing deep. “If you really want to do this for me, and for them, let us go. Keeping us ‘safe’, isn’t always going to work for the good of us.” Mark states, standing up as he leaves the room, stalking towards the beach, letting the cutting winds burn his cheeks as he attempts to cool down. 

 

He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, no. He couldn’t have been any luckier, to be found by them, and be accepted by them. They have always been patient with him, even during the earlier difficult days when he was so confused, so frustrated. 

 

But, he has seen it before. The way Jungwoo stops Chenle and Jisung from stepping anywhere further than the clinic, their cottage, and the beach just right in front of their house. The way he says no to them going to town. The way he keeps them in, away from the neighbours. It burns in his mind and heart, because he knows, Jungwoo’s fears probaby stem from somewhere traumatic and he is sorry, but keeping in to keep people safe, is not always the right way. 

 

Sometimes, you have to take risks. Sometimes, you have to throw yourself off a cliff based on the word of one person, and hope for the best. Sometimes, you just can’t play safe. 

 

To live in a broken world, he decides, as the waters lap at his feet, and he watches a tan boy at the other end of the beach, cautiously dipping his feet at the edge of the water, you will have to play life equally riskily. 

 

He gets up and makes his way towards the boy, hands in his pockets. The moment he reaches, and Donghyuck’s eyes light at the sight of him, teeth on full display as he flashes a grin, the setting sun glowing against his skin, he figures this is worth the risk. 

 

It is worth it, he decides, as he splashes water onto Donghyuck who whines in reply, face so full of blissfulness; to throw his temporal life away, and trade it, to know the pages before, and to write the pages after. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


For the millionth time, Donghyuck thanks the gods that he got Huang Renjun as his master back in the day, because the Huangs are the most benevolent people he know. They are elated and welcoming, and are willing to open their house up to four guests, three of which they have never met before.

 

They have packed their belongings in, Jungwoo’s face twisted in pain as he hugs each of them, and nods to Donghyuck as a goodbye. Jungwoo isn’t going, because he knows, the area needs him. Especially with the flu hitting the nearby villages, he is indispensable. He can’t just leave like that, when quite literally, a few hundred lives are in his hands. 

 

Donghyuck turns away, to let their little family have some time on their own, instructing his men on the formation they should take to ensure safe travel. 

 

He climbs into the sedan with Taeil, Jisung and Chenle, who are beyond ecstatic and excited, and Mark, who is staring into the open fields with a little longing in his eyes, lost in thought. He squeezes into the seat next to him, and smiles at the way Jisung and Chenle are laughing, happy, free. 

 

They begin their journey, and Donghyuck is starting to regret it a little, that they should have all of them in the same carriage, because Chenle and Jisung have a never ending energy that fuels their chatter 

 

“Where will we stay when we reach China?” Jisung pipes out, eyes sparkling, even though they have been on the road for four hours straight, and Taeil is completely knocked out. “Will it be at your parents’ house? Or Mark’s?” Chenle asks. 

 

Donghyuck’s mouth is dry of replies or suitable answers, and his face is burning as he panics, because Mark is looking at him, expecting an answer. His family. Of course. That will be something he would want to know about too. Oh god, what is he going to  _ say _ ?

 

Donghyuck swallows hard, and speaks slow and careful. “My father died during the civil war. My mother and I….don’t live together.” For the first time, Chenle and Jisung are quiet, and they are sorry, he can see it on their faces and he looks away, watching the passing fields quietly go by. He doesn’t need the pity or sympathy or ‘sorry’s. It’s okay. He’s got through it already. 

 

“And my parents?” Mark asks, tone nonchalant and even. His voice is void of any pity or sympathy for Donghyuck’s broken family; he doesn’t really  _ care _ , it seems. 

 

“They have passed on.” Donghyuck says quietly, a sorry on the tip of his lips, but just like how he doesn’t want it, he’s sure Mark wouldn’t want it either. He turns to take a glance at the other, who is just staring blankly at him, silence stretching. 

 

“Oh. So where will we be staying?” Is all he replies. It is like he has detached any emotion from all the information he is receiving; maybe it is easier that way. 

 

“At the Huang residence. They are my adoptive family.” Donghyuck breathes out a sigh of relief as the tension dissipates, and Jisung and Chenle are back to asking a million questions, Donghyuck trying hard to answer all of them, without squirming in his seat, uncomfortable under Mark’s burning gaze. 

  
  


So his parents are dead. Great. Fantastic. Of course. The gods are playing with them both, Mark muses as he watches Donghyuck try his best to answer all of Jisung and Chenle’s questions, shoulder slumping as he gets tired. The scenery is changing a little, as he watches the barren paddy fields, turn into some mountain trails, to seeing little villages dotting the area as the sun begins to set. It is early, but with no light to guide their way, they are forced to stop at a nearby village. 

 

The carriage is halted, and there are some hushed voices up ahead. It doesn’t bother Donghyuck much, though he does tell them to stay inside and not look out. It does however, start to prick him, when the wait gets a little long, and trots are heard as a horse rides up to their carriage window. 

 

“Master, the Mongols won’t let us go in.” A guard tiredly reports. Just because they took the land, they think they can bully anyone, and Donghyuck’s blood is boiling as he jumps off the sedan, cloak floating gracefully behind him, as he strides up to the Mongols with undefeated confidence. 

 

“Ah, so it  _ is _ the Huang’s adoptive son.” A Mongol guard muses, stroking his beard as his eyes rake Donghyuck’s body. 

 

“The one who likes men?” Another teases, and Donghyuck would have been burning at the tips if it was the first time; but it is not. He has dealt with this before, and he can deal with this again. 

 

“Is there a problem, sirs?” Donghyuck hisses as he crosses his arms, head cocking. 

 

“Road tax. Your men are unwilling to give.” The border guard says, eyes sharp and never leaving Donghyuck’s smaller form, eyes hardening and darkening with something that makes Donghyuck want to vomit. 

 

“There is no road tax here, guard. It only applies to the main road.” Donghyuck says throw gritted teeth, tapping his foot. “If you think you can cheat our honest people of their money, you have thought far too lowly of us. We know the rules,  _ unlike _ your people.” 

 

Donghyuck is grabbed by the collar, and he wants very much to push and run away from the closeness of the guard and him, a hand firm on his neck as he is pulled in, the rings on the guard’s fingers cutting his flesh. 

 

“ _ If _ I were you, I would keep my mouth shut and pay up. Or would you prefer to offer a different service?” The guard teases, and his colleagues roar with laughter. Donghyuck’s bodyguard is seething with anger, hand on the sword, but his master has yet to show signs that he needs help.  

 

Someone does his job for him, because he is pulled back roughly, the only think he can see is the back of someone’s neck. 

 

“Keep your hands off him.” The voice is rough and low, threatening. Mark’s face is dark with anger, and he doesn’t even know what he is doing here, but something about watching the entire thing unfold right before his eyes, has his stomach churning, and on impulse—or was it instinct?—he had jumped down to intervene. 

 

“Well, well, well. Who is this? Your new boyfriend?” The guard backs off, smiling slyly. “Pretty one too.” Donghyuck clenches his fist and nods at his secretariat, who hands him a bag of money, which he thrusts unceremoniously to the guard, a few coins dropping onto the road, the guards rushing to pick them up. 

 

He pulls Mark by the wrist, and throws himself before him, eyes glaring at the guard who is no longer interested in him, waving at someone in front to let the gates open. “Do not, take anymore briberies. You may have forgotten the power of the Huangs, but I have not. You will be reported, and taken away from your post, and I hope you rot in hell.” He spits out, turning his heel as his bodyguard unsheathes his sword to protect his master, dragging Mark along with him. 

 

He picks at his collar, pulling it higher to cover the drying blood on his neck, and breathes deep. Plastering a smile on his face, he calms the anxious youths and a worried Taeil with chirpy behaviour, but his false facade is nothing against Mark, who watches the charade with furrowed brows, his wrist tingling where Donghyuck had pulled at. 

  
  
  
  


It takes a couple of days, and thankfully no more of those awful Mongol guards, to reach the Huang residence. Despite her poor health, MaMa is at the gates, wrapped in thousands of layers as Donghyuck sinks into her warm embrace, melting into her comforting touch as she strokes his hair, and presses a kiss on his forehead. Renjun is clapping him on the back, before his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Mark. 

 

He laughs as he shakes a bewildered Mark’s hands, saying, “To think that you are alive! It’s a miracle.” Mr. Huang is equally astonished and shocked, though his expression softens to a happy one as he shakes Mark’s hands amicably, welcoming him as the servants swarm to take the luggage, ushering their guests in. 

 

MaMa smiles as she approaches Mark, bowing slightly, before patting the back of his hand, softly introducing herself. Mark frowns, shaking his head as the aches start and his head is pounding. A flashback. A warm smile, wrinkles,  _ who are you, child? _

 

A frown is etched on the aged lady’s face as she watches Mark’s expression turn into one plagued with pain, and quickly has him sit in one the intricately designed wooden chairs. 

 

“Oh, it’s normal.” Taeil tells her. “He gets it when he has flashbacks.” 

 

“What flashbacks?” Renjun asks, narrowing his eyes at a sheepish looking Donghyuck. He had conveniently left it out, not wanting to worry any of them. 

 

“He has amnesia.” Donghyuck explains, soft and neutral, though MaMa is sending him a pained look, which he wishes he didn’t see. It hurts him, to see his adoptive mother feeling the pain for him. 

  
  
  


“I’m so sorry, Hyuckie.” She murmurs when Donghyuck brings food to her room. She easily becomes faint, and had excused herself a little while after their guests had settled. 

 

“It’s okay.” Donghyuck mumbles as he sets the tray down. Plain porridge is all she is eating; she can’t stomach anything else. 

 

“No, it’s not.” The woman says, her eyebrows furrowed. She knows the young man inside out by now; and she hates this part of him. The part that always bottles up his feelings, the side he wants to hide, no matter how many times she assures him that  _ it’s okay to cry. _

 

Donghyuck just hums in reply, avoiding her prodding as he feeds her the porridge. His eyebrows are knitted in worry as he watches her take every bite with such pain and effort. The doctors had said she wouldn’t last much longer; but she is a strong woman. The illness can’t kill her so easily. Or at least, that is what Donghyuck hopes, because he can’t bear to have another loved one taken away just like that. 

  
  


He returns back to the dining hall after MaMa had finished her meal, smiling at his sister-in-law, though inside, he doesn’t quite like her. She is snobbish, from another high ranking official family, and thinks she owns the whole place. She is sweet, in front of Renjun’s family, but the looks she gives Donghyuck are always that of condescending, as if he didn’t deserve the same respect because he is an ‘outsider’. But he doesn’t say anything, because Renjun is smiling like an idiot as he holds her hand and socialise animatedly with Taeil, his remarks sitting well with the equally sarcastic and dark-humored fisherman. 

 

“Who is he?” Renjun’s wife,  Altansarnai, asks for the millionth time, but Renjun shoots Donghyuck a glance, and with a short shake of the head, he gets the idea, and simply brushes her off again. 

 

It’s not like Donghyuck wants to create barriers between the two, and force them to keep secrets from one another. It is just that Mr. Huang and Donghyuck, in their correspondence of letters, have mutually agreed that allowing anyone else outside of their family and Jungwoo’s, to know who Mark really is, could be dangerous. Especially with the recent rumours about rising rebel troops, a found King, alive and not dead, as the Mongolians thought, could put all their lives, especially Mark’s, in danger. 

 

Other than that one portrait that was put up at the capital’s main town square, no one really knows what the King looks like. They know him by name, Emperor Lee the Seventh, and some have seen him, during his visitations to the specific states, but for the majority of the vast empire have yet to see face-to-face, their ruler. Even then, these few years, coupled with poorer conditions in the fishing village, have changed Mark’s stature and features significantly. Which is why, Jungwoo, nor the villagers, knew of an inkling of who Mark truly was, when they first found him. 

 

Altansarnai narrows her eyes as she catches the brief exchange between Renjun and Mark, but says nothing.  _ That low life will pay for it later,  _ is all she thinks, as she grits her teeth in a flashy smile, sweet talking to Jisung and Chenle. 

 

“Donghyuck.” Mark speaks, sudden and abrupt. He has been quiet the entire dinner, and Donghyuck nearly jumps at the sound of his voice. 

 

“How did you go from being a guard, to, this?” He gestures at the luxury of the Huang household. The dinner table is dead silent, when Altansarnai laughs, light but cutting, and Donghyuck clenches his fist, teeth grinding as they grit. 

 

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? The benevolent Huangs took in  _ this _ guard as a generous gesture. They paid off his debt, and cleared his name, adopting him. Though, we all still wonder  _ why  _ they would ever do it. But of course, now that I am here myself, I can see why; the Huangs are very, very nice people.” Her voice is honey-sweet, sickeningly melodious with an underlying edge. 

 

“Altan.” Renjun warns while Donghyuck bites the inside of his cheek. God, he’s so over and done with this bullshit. 

 

Mark watches the three of them stare and glare at each other, his head aching again. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come back after all. The flashbacks he gets here are a lot more frequent, and very much more terrifying, because these are new, old memories that have resurfaced, just by watching them interact. 

 

Mr. Huang clears his throat. He doesn’t like Altansarnai either. But, Renjun has a peculiar liking for her, and she is the top general’s daughter; he would like to stay out of trouble with the Mongols as much as possible, and if having their favour means tolerating their bratty child, he will take it. “That’s enough.” His voice is loud, clear, and authoritative. 

 

“Hyuck, I have some matters to discuss with you, as with Renjun.” He hints, getting up from his seat as he nods apologetically to the guests, who are watching the whole scene unfold with caution.

  
  
  


“Sorry, Hyuck. You know how she’s like.” Renjun says, the moment it is just the three of them in his father’s office. 

 

“It’s okay.” Donghyuck shrugs, though clearly, it isn’t, but he’s not going to say it. 

 

“She is getting more ridiculous by the second, Renjun.” Mr. Huang chides, as he spreads out a new parchment. “But, we shall waste no time on her. Hyuck, what do you think, of the rebel troops in the south?” He asks, business-like. It’s a trait Donghyuck admires of Mr. Huang, the way he can transition so easily and quickly to professionalism. 

 

He understands what his adoptive father is trying to say. “I am not entirely convinced, but it’s a good guess that the Imperial Secretary and Foreign Minister are behind it.” He enuciates his words carefully, aware of the weight of his words as his tone goes into a hush. 

 

Doyoung and Kun did not come for the funeral of their lost ones; they had instead concentrated their grief into planning for revenge, though in what form, Donghyuck is not entirely sure, but, forming rebel troops is exactly the kind of thing they will probably do. 

 

Mr. Huang hums, tapping his fingers against the wood, the parchment muffling the sounds. “Things could get dangerous. I don’t know the extent of their grief and how much they want to seek revenge…..it might blind them, and it could hurt us, and Mark, if we told them about his miraculous survival.” 

 

“But they were his family,” Renjun provides the reason for the dilemma. Mr. Huang nods, and Donghyuck sighs. Politics just always has to complicate things. 

 

“They have the right to know.” Donghyuck says softly. 

 

He thinks of the way the five of them: Ten, Johnny, Doyoung, Kun and Mark, would spend their evenings, specially placing aside time for them to bond and play over a game of Mahjong. The way Doyoung and Kun did everything in their power to raise the unpolished leader in Mark. The way they always had faith in him, even during his trial. They were Mark’s pillars of strength, throughout his rule, and were always there for him, when things got tough, never backing out, never escaping like he had. They were loyal servants, serving a country, a king; loving uncles, to a lost child. 

 

“Perhaps a face-to-face meeting would be better.” Mr. Huang suggest, and Donghyuck nods. “I agree. Though, how will we contact them?” 

  
  
  


“My dear Donghyuck,” Mr. Huang says, with a tad of mischief. “Never underestimate the power of the Huangs.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty)  
> and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	5. DON’T FORGET THE TONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for all the comments and kudos thus far! hope you guys like this update~  
> sidenote: i made a [playlist](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/post/181831836410/%F0%9D%96%99%F0%9D%96%8D%F0%9D%96%8A-%F0%9D%95%B6%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%93%F0%9D%96%8C-%F0%9D%96%86%F0%9D%96%93%F0%9D%96%89-%F0%9D%96%8D%F0%9D%96%8E%F0%9D%96%98-%F0%9D%96%8C%F0%9D%96%9A%F0%9D%96%86%F0%9D%96%97%F0%9D%96%89) that you can play while reading this, though it's not like on spotify or anything,,,,,it's just kind of like a list heh

**CHAPTER 4: 2002 DON’T FORGET THE TONE**

 

 

“Alright, show us this proof.” Taeil crosses his arms. The past few days have been good, fun almost. The city is nothing like the village, where life is slow, warm and easy. Here, things are hot, fast and quick, mesmerising with the bustle of life, bubbling with colours and sights. But, they aren’t here for a holiday, or at least, that is what Taeil is trying to tell himself as he gobbles down yet another dumpling. They are here to find out more about Mark’s past, to verify Donghyuck’s words.

  
  


They travel south, the landscape changing from the dense housing, to more sparse land with little cottages, to whirling winds and snowflakes, coats held high up to cover their noses to keep themselves warm. Mark didn’t want to, but he is forced to, by the mere speed of the pure breed mare and the bitter winds, to cling onto Donghyuck, head tucked over his shoulder as they travel upwards to some barren land.

 

His men bring Taeil, Jisung and Chenle with them, but they stop a little far off, dropping their guests to walk the rest of the way, while Donghyuck’s horse trots towards the cave. He stops at the usual spot in front of the barren tree, jumping down as his feet crunch softly as they land on the thick layer of snow, his cloak blowing gently with the movement.

  


They walk slowly to the grave; Mark and Donghyuck up front, while Taeil holds Jisung and Chenle’s hands as they trail after them.

 

A little tombstone is set just a few feet from the mouth of cave, and Donghyuck smiles a little as he bows, placing a little bead bracelet on top of the collection of jewellery. Johnny used to leave them here all the time, because Ten loved jewellery: earrings always crowding the shell of his ear, bracelets clinking as they sway from the wrists, necklaces that highlight his beautifully carved neck. When Johnny passed on, and they had returned, Donghyuck only felt that it was right, to continue placing little pieces of treasures he finds from travelling around Asia.

 

“King Ten.” Donghyuck informs them quietly, and they all take a turn to awkwardly bow, Mark’s forehead tainted with lines as he frowns, his face etched with something mixed with agony.

 

Another flashback, another scene flashing. Someone with dark brown hair, locks curling over his eyes as he weeps next to a casket. Tigers surrounding a man as he buries his face into them. The numbing pain comes as a shock to Mark as they are attached to the memory, and he takes a sharp breath, Donghyuck immediately steering them to the withering tree, getting the hint that the tombstone is raising some emotionally torturous memory.

  
  
  


Donghyuck sets off towards the cave, and Mark follows suit, but Donghyuck tells him, and the rest, to stay near the tree, and to not follow. Mark watches Donghyuck’s back disappear into the darkness of the cavern, his heart pulsing a dull ache.

  


Their jaws drop as the tigers stride out after Donghyuck, but they are quick to recognise their owner, and are literally running towards Mark, Donghyuck laughing as the other three run, screaming, while Mark just appears amused as the ferocious creatures just stop short of crashing into him, licking his open palm.

 

“Bitagram! Eun Kyung!” Donghyuck calls as he clucks his tongue, and they stop their affectionate torment, having tackled Mark down to the ground to give him a number of kitten licks.

 

They are gruff as they return to Donghyuck’s side, but nevertheless nuzzle against his open palms as he coos at them, laughing as they nudge him to sit. Their mewls and soft purrs tell Donghyuck they are happy; and correctly so. After all, it’s been a long while since Donghyuck came to them, happy.

 

“These are tigers, Donghyuck.” Mark says, in awe, as he crouches, watching them laze near Donghyuck, starking yellow sapphire eyes sparkling. He tentatively strokes their smooth fur which Donghyuck always combed, and they purr in delight, sinking into his touch.

 

“Yes,” Donghyuck breathes out, heart clenching with a bittersweet pain. “And they are yours.”

 

Mark says nothing for a moment, stroking their fur, hands lost as they weave through the thick fur, and the tigers move closer to him, nuzzling into his stomach, forcing him to take a seat on the cold white sheet, beside Donghyuck.

 

Their knees barely knock, and Donghyuck is watching Mark’s face soften into relaxation as his eyes are lost in a staring battle with Eun Kyung. Bitagram is whining for attention, but quietens as Donghyuck relents as he rubs his fur; he spoils them too much.

 

“No.”

 

Donghyuck hums in question as he looks up, his breath hitching inaudibly as Mark’s intense eyes find his, and Donghyuck finds himself sinking into depths unknown yet again.

 

“They’re ours.” Mark says matter-of-factly, breaking the eye contact. “They like you too. They’re familiar with you.”

 

Donghyuck lets out a breath, a burden as if lifted from his chest. _Ours_. The last time they had said that, it was filled with hurt and anger. This time, perhaps a little too devoid of emotion, but rather a statement of fact. As if it is how it is.

 

“Yea,” Donghyuck breathes out. “They’re _ours._ ”

  
  
  


It doesn’t take long for Jisung and Chenle to be out, running across the vast field with Bitagram, though Eun Kyung stays behind, quietly napping between Mark and Donghyuck. Donghyuck updates Mark, and informs Taeil about the whole situation: that those tigers were given by Landa and Sae, King Ten’s tigers. Taeil is in awe, while Mark just frowns as Eun Kyung grunts, her heavy stomach apparent.

 

“I had the doctor check her a week before I left for Goryeo.” Donghyuck says, noting the curiosity. “She’s pregnant, but back then, it was too early to tell how many. I’ll call him to check her tomorrow, he said he’s busy today.” Mark just nods, palm soft and cautious over the abdomen, Eun Kyung’s bright eyes losing a little of their sharpness as she places her trust in him completely.

 

“This is….unbelievable. And yet, I don’t have a shadow of doubt of what you’ve been saying all this while, now that it really does seem quite true.” Taeil confesses, and Donghyuck accepts his apology later on.

 

They depart, regretfully, because the sun was setting, and there was no light to guide them back. It would be terrible to lose their way in the precarious mountains at night, so they make their way down.

 

“Wait.” Donghyuck calls out to the men further up. “Take the left turn.” He tells them, riding up, Mark’s arms loosely dangled around his waist. He leads the way up the little trail, deviated from the main road, to the peak where the graves are at.

 

He drops to the ground, and doesn’t bother to check if the rest are following. Five graves are enough to draw attention. He calls the guards to take out the stone tablet with Mark’s name, and orders them to destroy it, Mark watching the procession blankly.

 

“Looks like Fate’s had enough of toying with my feelings.” Donghyuck says, hands in his pockets; the winds blow harder when you’re higher. “It brought Mark back to life. Commander Nakamoto will probably be rolling his eyes at this point.” Donghyuck adds on, a sad pull of his lips in contrast to the teasing tone.

 

He sighs as he turns around. “Guard Seo,” he points to the first grave. “King Ten’s guard, and his husband.”

 

“Commander Nakamoto, and Commander Dong. They were the head generals of the royal army, and the joint defense ministers.” He says, hand gesturing respectfully to the following two.

 

“And this is Guard Wong. He was your bodyguard.” Donghyuck adds on, biting his lips. He knows what the next question will be, and he doesn’t know how to answer it exactly.

 

“How did they die?”

 

Does he answer it cruelly? With emotion? A ‘sorry’? A ‘It’s not your fault’?

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

“They died…... saving you. According to surviving guards, you and only a couple of men, together with Guard Seo, Commander Nakamoto, Commander Dong, and Guard Wong, were cornered to a cliff. They did everything they could, but they were greatly outnumbered.” Donghyuck whispers, watching Mark’s face.

 

The man’s face twists, but gradually calms into neutrality. Nothing much has changed, it seems. Even his emotional defense mechanism remains the same: to detach from emotion.

 

Then, of course, Mark picked up the abnormality as they rode back, trotting now as they near the crowded town. His words fan over the back of Donghyuck’s neck and his cheek, his lips way too close to skin for liking.

 

“If Guard Seo was King Ten’s husband, why don’t you call him King Seo, and still use his lower status name? Isn’t that disrespectful?” Mark shouts over the crowd as the people make a wide berth for them.

 

Donghyuck dismounts as they near the Huang residence, Mark’s eyes on him as he leads the horse towards it’s stable.

  


“Guard Seo was like a brother to me. He took care of me, when we were in the palace. I, I’m used to calling him that. He didn’t mind it either, so I guess it just stuck.” Donghyuck replies casually, nonchalant, very deliberate effort to keep his emotions at bay.

 

So many years, and still his heart can shatter at the thought of the elder’s passing. He is very, very lucky to have MaMa pick up Johnny’s job to be his emotionally support; otherwise, he would have collapsed.

 

Mark just hums in reply as he trails after Donghyuck to his room, the latter frowning. “Your quarters are at the other end, Mark.” Donghyuck says politely, watching Mark frown again. Maybe the headaches aren’t caused by the flashbacks, but the constant tension between his eyebrows.

 

“Tell me more.” Mark requests, rather childishly. Donghyuck sighs as he glances over at his stack of never ending work.

 

“Tell you what,” he says as he goes into the room, shutting the door behind Mark, the other wandering about as he surveys the room. It’s significantly bigger than his rooms in the palace, with a nicely furnished studying room, enough space for his endless scrolls and calculations.

 

“I’ll tell you after I clear this stack, okay? I really need to get this done by today; the trip out took too much time. Hmm?” But his words are falling on deaf ears as Mark’s fingers brush over a glass case with some items.

 

“What are these?”

 

“Mark.” Donghyuck warns tiredly as he drops his cloak and settles into his seat, dipping his ink brush into the inkstone.

  


They settle into comfortable silence. For the first hour or so, Mark stares at the items for a bit, wandering as he explores the room a little, eyebrows knitting as he reads some couplets hanging from the doors. He explores a little of the compound outside, the door always ajar so that Donghyuck can keep an eye on him.

 

But then, he gets bored, and settles in a seat next to Donghyuck, leaning his head on his arm, eyes watching the way the brush moves along the parchment, forming graceful strokes with a touch of fanciness. His eyes watch the way the golden tablet sparkle under the moonlight, his fingers landing short of touching the damaged tablet.

 

“What does the tablet say?” Mark asks, sudden, yet again, and Donghyuck is jolted out of his reports.

 

“Haechan,” he says, after a pause. “It means, the full sun. It’s kind of like my nickname.” He explains, heart in his throat as he remembers this exact same conversation, but when the world was a lot simpler.

 

“Oh. That suits you.” Mark comments, flipping his face to the other side to examine the moonlight through the little window behind Donghyuck.

 

Donghyuck whispers a thanks, as he watches Mark’s eyes get lost in the scenery outside.

 

Somethings, just never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty)  
> and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	6. YOU MUST KNOW THAT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou all for your comments, kudos, and ccs! it encourages me a lot that many of you like this so much :)) hopefully yall will like this update! updates will be a lot faster now, given that im nearly done with this fic, so watch out for them!

**CHAPTER 5: 4486 YOU MUST KNOW THAT**

**_I am always by your side_ ** **_언제나 너의 곁에 있다는 거_ **

 

 

Renjun had been tasked to write the letter to Doyoung and Kun, since Donghyuck was away the entire morning till evening, bringing around his guests to god knows where. His wife is irritatingly bugging him about the guests’ identities, and his head is pounding because of the amount of work he has lined up for him, and there’s still this  _ letter _ in the way. 

 

Not that it will take much time, but he needs to put a lot of brainwork into this, from choosing his words, to ensuring that none of the content raises any suspicion should it ever be intercepted. But the numerous crushed letters are not helping his demoralised and overworked self. 

 

His secretary is now knocking at the door again, telling him that the managers are going to have a meeting and he has to be there, and in his haste, he leaves the unfinished letter on the table, mind flying to the million other things he has to do, completely forgetting what the three men had agreed on. 

  
  


Altansarnai is careful, sly almost. She waits till her husband has rushed out, before slipping out from the shadows, walking silently, with a confidence to avoid suspicion. She picks up the letter, pretending to rearrange the cluttered workspace, slipping it into her robes, hiding in a place no servant can see her, as she scans the letter.

  
  


_ ‘Imperial Secretary, Foreign Minister:  _

_                 Greetings from the Huang Rice Trade. How have you been?  _

_                 You will be glad to know that our trade has been doing well, and Donghyuck is thriving here; there is no need to worry.  _

 

_                 I write this letter, because of an discovery  that our King, is ,  _

__

 

His grammar is off, and his words are unfinished, but it holds the very word that is enough to spark curiosity, suspicion, and enough for her to run to her father’s office, to hand the piece of evidence to him. 

 

_ King.  _

 

What discovery could it possibly be? They all know the Huangs had attended the funeral, and had forlornly accepted the fates of the dead. They do not even speak about their lost King; the Huangs rarely ruffle the feathers of the leaders, and raising the topic of the China’s previous ruler is certainly not the thing those people-pleasers would do. 

 

_ Is. _

 

Present tense. 

 

The Mongols are not dumb. They are extremely smart, and they can put two and two together, to figure out that Renjun is probably talking about some clues that the previous King is alive, or is hidden somewhere. Genghis Khan was furious when his men searched the river banks for days, and still could not recover the body as solid evidence that the Emperor is dead. But judging by an on-site trip to the cliff, and seeing the rushing chasm, it is hard to fathom how the Emperor could have possibly survived it, so he let it be. 

 

Now, they speak of a King, and the fact that the letter was addressed to the Imperial Secretary and Foreign Minister, both of whom are rumoured to be raising rebel troops that are gaining momentum, confirms even further of Genghis Khan’s constant doubt and little anxiety, that the Emperor is not dead, and that one day he will come, and destroy everything he has worked hard for, and reclaim what he took. 

 

Genghis Khan is not having it. He is an extremely jealous and possessive ruler; he will not stand for even the slimest chances that someone might jeopardise his authority and power. 

 

But it is nightfall when Altansarnai came to her father’s office, and they are not prepared for an attack, and they still need a strategy. Morning. Morning they will storm the Huangs and torture them with questionings, demanding an answer. 

  
  


Unfortunately for them, a little servant girl hears of these things as she passes her master’s bedroom. She remembers the Huangs. The adoptive son with sunkissed skin had played his guzheng in the town’s square before, all those years ago. She likes him; he is always kind to her, when he goes to the marketplace, and visits her mother’s stall. 

 

And she is Chinese. 

 

If the talk is true, her King is back, and he will definitely have her nation restored. Loyalty and Honour are important things; that’s what she has always been taught. 

  
  
  


Adrenaline courses through her as the words repeat themselves in her head like a mantra: Loyalty and Honour, Loyalty and Honour. She is quick to realise Altansarnai, and skids the corner as she rapidly tells Mr. Huang is low tones. He pats her head, and is quick to act, but fails to protect the child from the sharp eyes of the Mongolian lady. 

  
  


Donghyuck grits his teeth against the swishing air rushing about him, as his horse gallops through the rough terrain. Not to mention that the snow is still going strong, and his face is freezing up from the cutting winds, though, his back is warm as Mark presses against him, thumping heart matching that of Donghyuck’s, as his blood boils with fear and resentment. When Mr. Huang had told him, he had shaken Mark up with such force, the other was cursing at him, but eventually quietened and complied when he realised the gravity of the situation. 

 

The servants were fast and moving, and Renjun was quick to get hold of his wife, preventing her from alerting the authorities, while MaMa was transferred into a sedan, Taeil, Jisung and Chenle each riding with one of Donghyuck’s guards as he leads the way. Mr. Huang had decided that he will stay behind with Renjun and Altansarnai. He could buy them a little time, distracting the officials when they get to the residence at the crack of dawn. 

 

They don’t say anything, but the exchange of glances convey their meanings and wishes of good luck. They all know, wordlessly, that when the Mongols come just as the sun rises, they will wreak havoc and chaos will ensue. Renjun and Mr. Huang could be, no, will definitely be, subjected to some form of torturing during their questionings. 

 

But the situation is urgent, and Donghyuck has no time to feel upset, angered or afraid for his adoptive family. He is the only leader now amongst those who are fleeing, and he has to keep it together. He swallows the rising bile and leans forward as he shouts, urging his horse to go faster, his guards close behind, MaMa’s sedan always in the middle of the pack, to ensure her safety. 

 

She cannot, however, take the long and fast paced journey, so they had planned to leave her in a town just a little outside Qin Huang Dao, while they carry on their journey further north to Shenyang. The plan is to bring them all home, to Goryeo, but they will make a permanent camp in Shenyang first, and wait for updates, test the waters, and go with how the situation unfolds. They don’t want to bring unnecessary trouble back to the little fishing village, and create more chaos and possible bloodshed. 

  
  
  


The journey takes a week or so; the group always huddling in the woods as their teeth chatter, hugging each other for warmth, because starting a fire could prove to be dangerous. It is a good thing he has a couple of his trusted guards with him, he feels safer as he tries to wreck his brains for an escape route, especially when one of his guards come back from the town just a little way from the woods, with terrible news that Renjun and Mr. Huang have been arrested, and the Mongols are hot with anger and terror, possibly on their trail. 

 

He can only pray, that they will never find MaMa, and hopes the village he had chosen is remote and secluded enough to not raise suspicion. And then he prays for the weather to clear up, because with the deepest of the colds as they hit mid-December, it will only get harder if the bitter winds keep up their relentless nature. 

 

He sighs, as he leans against the cold stone of the cave, his eyes wide and alert, while the others sleep. Taeil has Jisung and Chenle right by him, a frown on his face. His men sleep upright sitting, hands on their daggers, and he wonders for the millionth time, if bringing Mark home was the right decision. 

  
  


“Donghyuck.” The voice calls, rasp, hoarse a little from slumber. His head whips around, and he tries to clear the worry off his face as he smiles at Mark, who is watching him with bleary eyes. 

 

“Go to sleep, Mark. It’s another long day tomorrow.” He tells his softly. The man just shakes his head as he walks over to Donghyuck, slumping to the space next to him. 

 

“You haven’t slept in days. You’re body’s not going to keep up at this rate.” Mark says softly, stating the obvious. 

 

Donghyuck knows Mark is right. But how can he sleep, when he knows he is responsible for all their lives, and he knows, that death could be at any corner? Uneasiness settles in his stomach heavily, and he can barely blink, without worrying about a Mongol popping out at any second.

 

“Donghyuck.” Mark says softly, and his heart is clenching at the way his name rolls off Mark’s tongue. 

 

He wonders how the other is taking all this: from knowing that his parents are dead, to the fact that he is a King, and the owner of two grown tigers. He is amazed at the calmness Mark is displaying throughout the entire ordeal, never the least fazed, as if he had expected all this.

  
  


He wonders how the knowledge that at least four people have died to save him is sitting with Mark. Does Mark feel guilty? Does he blame himself? He hopes Mark doesn’t feel remotely those things, because he knows that Johnny, Yuta, Sicheng, Lucas, and the hundreds of men under his stead, all did it willingly for their King, for their country. It’s not Mark’s fault those greedy Mongolians wanted more land, more riches, more power. 

 

He wonders how the other is accepting the fact that again, more people might just die because of him. Renjun and Mr. Huang aren’t going to have a nice chit-chat in the dungeons. It will be a wonder if they came out of there with all their limbs intact. It will be a wonder, if they even  _ come out _ there.

 

He wonders if Mark is regretting coming back to China, regretting trusting some random guard who pops out of nowhere, claiming he knows his past, and then proceeds to put his life, and his family’s life, in real danger. 

  
  
  


“I’m sorry.” He whispers, watching the way the snow falls outside the mouth of the cave. The moonlight is bright tonight, glowing off the white carpet. 

 

Mark doesn’t say anything, merely humming in reply. 

 

“You said you will tell me more.” If Donghyuck is determined on staying up, so will he. And to pass the time, why not learn more about himself? 

 

Donghyuck sighs, but gives in. “What do you want to know?” 

  
  


A pause. And then, a firm word. 

 

“Everything.” 

 

And so, Donghyuck begins, unravelling the pages before for Mark, prying open the pages that were once sealed with seat water. 

 

He tells Mark how the King had found him, in the little village, fighting on the streets. He tells Mark how powerful he had looked, and how in awe Donghyuck was of him, as he sat on those crates, the gleam in his eyes, as he stared back unafraid, to the most powerful man back in the day. (He however, conveniently leaves out the painful details of Mark’s early life, pretending he doesn’t know about it, when Mark asks. He doesn’t know how to break it to him.) 

 

Then he narrates life in the palace, the way they had bickered, the way Mark was an asshole, in which he got a jab in the ribs as Mark shuffles closer to hear more, his eyes longing and sparkling with curiosity as he hangs onto Donghyuck’s every word. He wonders what Mark has been putting up with all this time; losing everything must have been hard, and he unconsciously presses his shoulder against Mark’s side, as if to alleviate some of the pain Mark had gone through.

 

He tells Mark what he likes and what he doesn’t: that he likes dumplings more than xiao long bao (“It was ridiculous”, Donghyuck shook his head while Mark insists that he has to try the two again, some time), and that Mark didn’t like ketchup, (“I found it the most offensive thing in the world.” Donghyuck tries to contain his laughter as he recalls those days, and the corner of Mark’s mouth involuntarily tilts up.)

 

Then his eyes get lost, as if in a trance, as he recalls the way Mark was so hard working, so smart, so agile and quick to pick up things, his intelligence astounding. Perhaps that’s why he had become so abrupt, Donghyuck muses. He forgot a little of how to reign his thoughts that can jump way ahead of itself. 

 

His voice quietens from the previous lighter tone of humour of their earlier days, and Mark falls into the deep silence as well, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip.

  
  


“I know you are lost. You don’t know who you are,” Donghyuck takes a deep breath as he interrupts a period of silence, turning towards Mark, whose eyes are trained on the golden tablet hanging from the delicate wrist. 

 

“But you are still Mark. The irritating noble I served, the smart kid who impressed everyone, the kind soul. You’re still you. Maybe you have changed a little, but you’re still you. I’m not going to pressure you to fit into the mould of the Mark-before-amnesia. But I just want you to know, that no matter what happens-” 

 

He stops himself.  _ I will always love you _ ? Ridiculous. He will frighten Mark away, and break whatever fragile bond they had just rekindled. 

 

“I will always be your guard. Here to protect you, here to help you. Though, I’m not doing a very good job now, am I?” Donghyuck ends lightly, turning away, unable to take the way Mark’s chocolate orbs are staring into his, emotions coursing so rawly. 

  
  


He takes a deep breath, chattering on about Ten, Johnny, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Kun, the list goes on as he retells the stories of the people who once were a huge part of Mark’s life, and how they shaped him into a leader that everyone loved and respected. 

 

“They were like your family. You were very happy, to have a family again.” Donghyuck says quietly, remembering the fond looks the Kings always gave Mark, the praises from Doyoung, the discussions he had with Kun.

 

“What about you?” Mark asks, expecting. 

 

“What about what?” Donghyuck asks tiredly. The sun was about to rise, and they had better wake the others up. 

 

“Your family? They died, right? You mentioned before. What happened?” Mark has always been quite upfront and honest with many things, so Donghyuck is not really taken by surprise, at the bluntness of the question. 

 

What he is taken aback by, is the fact that Mark asked about him. He cares…...or maybe he is just being delusional. Donghyuck sighs as he gets up, body aching, muscles screaming, eyes hurting at the lack of sleep. 

 

“Maybe next time, Mark. Next time.” 

  
  


Next time. That’s what he always says. Next time. And then, next time never comes, and he will regret it; Donghyuck grits his teeth at the thought as he fights against his sleeping limbs to coax his tired horse to a gallop as they continue they travels north, hoods over their heads as they fly past no man’s land, the sound of Mongols and their thrashing calls, urging them to go faster. 

  
  
  


It is only an illusion. 

 

Somehow or another, when they reach their Shenyang headquarters, the manager is pleased to inform them that Renjun and his father are free from investigation. Donghyuck doesn’t want to know how Mr. Huang did it, knowing it will only taint the pure, respectable image he has of the elder, and simply smiles as he takes in the good news. 

 

They will have to, however, stay in Shenyang for a little while longer, and allow things to die down, before heading back, in which Donghyuck fully agrees on a month-long stay. 

 

Then, the manager tenses a little, though very, very slight, but Donghyuck can sense it. He doesn’t ask, rather, waits till his guests are in comfortable beds, catching up on the sleep they have missed during their journey. 

  
  
  


“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks, hushed tones as he graciously accepts the tea the manager offers him. 

 

“I’m sorry, Master Lee.” He says, eyes forlorn as he clears his throat.  _ Why does he have to be the one to convey the news? _ He did not sign up for this. 

  
  
  


“Madam Huang passed away last night, in her sleep. I am very, very sorry.” 

 

The world stops for a while, tossed off its axis as Donghyuck closes his eyes, fingers gripping the china hard, as his head hangs, and bile rises up his throat. A hand on his thigh to steady himself as he takes deep breaths, the pang hitting his chest over and over again, causing him to be breathless. 

 

It can’t be true. She’s a strong woman. The illness shouldn’t defeat her so easily. 

 

But life is fleeting, and life is fragile. Of course, the gods would take away just at this moment. 

 

“Does Renjun and Mr. Huang know?” 

 

“.....We’d thought it was better to ask for your opinion first, given the circumstances.” Donghyuck lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

“I will tell them. When we go home.” 

 

The manager very kindly leaves him in the office for a few minutes by himself, as Donghyuck lets out shaky breaths. MaMa is dead. It should be expected; she was suffering after all, he had seen for it himself. 

 

So why did it hurt so much? 

 

It almost felt surreal. MaMa would be there at the gates, with open arms to hug him again, stroke his head again, kiss his forehead, lull him to sleep. 

 

But she isn’t. 

 

He closes his eyes, and behind his eyelids, he can still see his younger self, so unsure and so vulnerable as he tripped his way into the Huang residence, and right into MaMa’s arms. She loved him like her own, even though she didn’t need to. No need to sugarcoat it; he was a charity case and he knows it. But she never treated him like one. She helped him through the countless deaths during the war; she soothed him when he cried over unrequited love. She smiled and laughed and clapped when he played for her, singing along to the familiar tunes. 

 

She was everything his biological mother wasn’t, and he was so, so grateful. And now she is taken away, and Donghyuck feels a place in his heart turning empty and hollow, as he sits back on his chair, his spine coming into hard contact with the wood as he stares at the ceiling, wondering what he had done in his last life, to receive such torment. 

  
  


The first tears come when the night came and it was even worse. He was lonely, his bed was cold. Usually, MaMa would come in just before bed time, even when he was an adult and working, she would come when the moon is up, with a herbal soup as she chides him for staying too late. Later, when she fell more ill, he would visit her, chattering about his day, knowing she enjoyed his company.

 

What’s hurts him the most, is that she died alone. No husband, no son, no adoptive son. She died in a remote village, with only one servant and her bodyguard. 

 

He is so, so tired. He hadn’t had more than seven hours of sleep the past seven days; last night, not a minute at all. His heart was heavy with grief, his mind swimming with the number of things to do: plan MaMa’s funeral, ensure the guests safety, help Mark through his amnesia, contact Doyoung and Kun. Even then, exhaustion can’t take him into slumber as his eyes well with a fresh wave of tears, as grief crashes over his body over, and over again. 

  
  
  


Taeil had informed Donghyuck that they will be returning to Goryeo. He is not willing to take the risk for Jisung and Chenle, though, Mark says he will stay, and promises Taeil he will visit, in which the elder nods amicably. 

 

So, when Jisung and Chenle jumped up and down, eager and ready for another adventure, begging to see town; how could Donghyuck resist? He has become fond of the two, a reminder of his younger, more carefree self, so he relents and agrees. Taeil and Mark can tell Donghyuck is tired beyond belief, but somewhere in the small body, he gathers all the strength he can muster, to put on a smile as he dismisses Taeil’s and Mark’s concerns

 

He watches them wonder at the whirling small windmills with colourful plates, and pays the seller as he buys them one each, together with some cotton candy. Hot tea is what makes both of them grin in glee as they huddle at one of the stalls during a lunch break, happily chattering with an old lady manning the stall, who looks too much like MaMa for Donghyuck to even fake a smile. 

 

The day drags on, and Donghyuck is drained, he can’t keep up, so he suggests they go home, and thankfully, Jisung and Chenle agree, skipping back, while Donghyuck flashes them a forced smile when they hug him, and thank him, a kiss on his cheeks. 

  
  


Mark waits till it is just two of them in the corridor, Donghyuck heading towards his quarters, an obvious effort made to not slump his shoulders as he smiles politely at some of the workers. Mark jogs to catch up, and his fingers wrap around Donghyuck’s wrist, twisting him around to face each other. 

 

Donghyuck looks at him quizzically, and Mark blurts out, “ You know, you don’t have to pretend to be happy all the time.” He heard of what happened, both him and Taeil, though the little ones don’t. The manager had kindly informed them, expressing his thanks for their concern towards their boss. 

 

Donghyuck, however, doesn’t know this, and he tries to play it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says dismissively, yanking his wrist out of Mark’s grasp as he speed walks down the halls. 

 

Mark sighs as he jogs, his significantly longer legs making it easy for him to catch up. “Lee Donghyuck!” He calls as he follows the other into his room, Donghyuck not quick enough to shut him out. Donghyuck sighs. “Mark, please. Not today.” 

 

“That’s what you always say. ‘Next time, next time.’” Mark pulls a face as he crosses his arms, watching Donghyuck return to his desk, sighing at the fresh stack of letters piled on it, Huang written on one of them as his heart clenches. 

 

Mark watches Donghyuck mechanically sort through the mail, and exasperated, he whisper shouts, “Will you stop acting like you’re the hero and you’re so damn strong, you can take all the burdens of the world! I know it’s not easy, Donghyuck. I may have lost my memories, but I can at least  _ guess _ what it feels like for a loved one to pass on.”

 

Donghyuck freezes, and he tenses. He barely glances up as he tries again, to dismiss the worries. “It’s none of your concern, Mark. Go back to your quarters, please.” 

 

“Look, you’ve helped me a lot thus far. I’m…..I’m kind of recalling some memories, based on what you’ve been telling me, and I’m grateful, and I want to pay you back.” 

 

“So, will you please, just let me help you?” Mark is practically begging at this point. 

 

“You remember?” Donghyuck asks, eyes narrowing.  _ How much does he recall? _

 

“Really?” Mark replies, indignant. He walks over and yanks the brush out of Donghyuck’s grip, and slams his palm on the desk. “You don’t have to always act like you aren’t hurting.”

 

“I am not.” 

 

“You’re lying.” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows as he cross his arms. “You bite the inside of your cheek whenever you lie.” Donghyuck immediately lets the soft flesh go from his teeth’s grip, sheepish. 

 

“How do you know?” Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “Creep.” 

 

“Am not.” Mark retorts. “I just happen to enjoy observing things. It helped a lot, during the early days of my amnesia.” 

 

“.....Mark, I’m sorry.” It’s genuine, and it means a lot more than just feeling sympathetic for his health condition. It’s a sorry, that he couldn’t be there to protect him. He couldn’t be there, when Mark needed him most. 

 

Mark shrugs as he leans against the table, Donghyuck’s chair tilted towards him. “You get used to it. But I know what it feels like to lose everything. So I know what you’re feeling right now, and it’s scary, that you aren’t even crying, Donghyuck.” Mark reverts the conversation to how it originally begun. 

 

Donghyuck sighs, relenting as he covers his face, burying his face in his hands. “Okay, okay. You win. Somethings just never change, huh.” He mumbles into his palms, remembering that time after Memorial day. That time, when things started to change for them, when their relationship became something more, than a noble and a guard. He wonders if this time, it will be the same. 

  
  


Mark lets Donghyuck sob his heart out, patting his head awkwardly as Donghyuck soaks his robes in his midsection, crying into his stomach. His head starts to pound again at a faint, distant memory that is so similar to this. 

 

He can almost feel it. The warmth radiating, warm brown eyes, warm brown skin. Donghyuck’s jaw, his earring, his neck. His lips. Eyes shut, something velvet pressed against his. It has him jolting as cold sweat pours, and he is pulling away from Donghyuck in a haste, and immediately regrets it, because Donghyuck is muttering a ‘sorry’, like it’s _ his  _ fault.

 

He wants to reassure the other that it is not, that it is just his stupid brain and a lost vacuum of memories. But he can’t bring himself to do so. He wants to ask, but one look at the red eyes and heartbroken face, he can’t. 

 

So he just wraps his arms around Donghyuck again, his heart jerking and pounding at the action, and he wants badly to run away, but he doesn’t, and he will never. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) or drop me a [cc](https://curiouscat.me) !
> 
> and im sorry i killed someone again,,,,,,,sdhasjhsalkjdh


	7. STOPPED IN THE PAST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for all the comments!! i've read through them, just haven't had the time to sit down and reply to each and everyone. i want to reply with sincerity so.....please wait a while heh! 
> 
> anyways, two updates in a day, i hope yall like this :)) enjoyy

**CHAPTER 6: 3047 STOPPED IN THE PAST**

 

 

Eventually, Donghyuck wipes his tears, apologising sheepishly at the way he had broke down in front of the other, in which, it had just elicited a frown from the other. With Mark’s firm persuasion, Donghyuck manages to tear himself from his desk and falls into comfortable sleep, while Mark watches him from the other end of the bed. 

 

Like this, asleep, no frowns, no worries, no stress, no grief, Donghyuck looks young. He knows that Donghyuck is not very far from his age, but the other always holds himself with such responsibility and seriousness, coupled with his rather tragic history of losing everyone he loves, he had always seemed older, wiser, than Mark will ever be. 

 

He mentally slaps himself as he abruptly stands and leaves the room, wondering what the hell he is doing, watching the other like a creep. 

 

Then, he sighs as he turns around, and pulls the blankets up to cover Donghyuck’s entire body, only to be hit in the face as the other flails his limbs, and Mark huffs as he struggles to pull the cloth up to the other’s chin. 

  
  


In the end, a week after Taeil, Jisung and Chenle had gone back to Goryeo, they are on their way to Shenyang, rejecting the manager’s offer for a month’s stay, considering that they have a couple of things to do, like preparing for the funeral. 

 

Mark watches as Donghyuck’s breath hitches, when he sees the embalmed body, fingers shaking as they brush over the once-warm skin, now cold as stone, lifeless and without meaning. A mere shell, that once encompassed a beautiful soul. 

 

Donghyuck swallows hard, aware of the red rimmed eyes of MaMa’s servant girl, and the blank, lost look on the bodyguard’s face. He comforts them, wrapping his arms around them as he soothes the young girl, who looks like her heart just got ripped out. 

 

He is silent, the entire ride back, Mark pressing himself a little closer to him, hoping to radiate some sort of comfort, but the grief and loss Donghyuck feels, will never be mended for a long time to come. 

  
  


Mr. Huang and Renjun greet them amicably, happily almost, and it breaks Donghyuck’s heart. He doesn’t hold it in anymore, tears flowing in an unending stream as he explains the circumstances through broken sobs, Mr. Huang frozen to the spot, while Renjun just keeps asking questions, not quite believing it, even when they see MaMa’s body. 

 

“I’m sorry, Renjun, Mr. Huang. I’m sorry. It was my fault, I’m sorry-” He doesn’t stop repeating it, no matter how many hollow answers Mr. Huang gives, that it’s okay, no matter how many times Renjun tells him it will never be his fault, and that she was dying after all. It was inevitable, and simply unfortunate, that things turned out the way it did. 

  
  


Mark watches the funeral procession in silence; the once bright man now always silent, though he tries to force out a smile every once in the while, when Mark asks if he is okay. 

 

Though, more often than not, he can’t quite take the silent, exposing stares of Mark, and breaks down in his arms all over again, silence stretching between them, broken by the occasional sniffs, Mark not really knowing quite what to say. 

 

Sure, he had found out that his biological parents  _ and  _ adoptive parents are dead in less than a few weeks (honestly, what are the odds?), but because of his lost memories, that now seem very much like a blessing in disguise, he has no emotion attached to them, besides the vague feeling of sadness that any decent human being will feel about any other death. 

 

So no, he doesn’t really fully comprehend the pain Donghyuck is going through, only for the fact that it’s heartbreaking, completely shattering. 

  
  
  
  
  


“I’m really sorry Hyuck, but can you please at least come out of there?” Renjun asks, peering at Donghyuck who is hiding under the sheets, burying further into a hell hole he created for himself. 

 

He hasn’t been out of his room for days, and while Renjun is the biological son, he is a less emotional person, and found it slightly easier to pull himself out, and throw himself into work, once again. 

 

“Hyuck, please. You have got to get out of your room. You know what would MaMa say? She will tell you that it’s not the end of the world, and you need to get your ass up and going, and continue living your life to make her happy. Hyuck, can you at least eat some porridge?” He pleads, desperately, hating how everything is crumbling to the ground. His father, is in pretty much the same state, staring blankly into space for hours, tracing the imprints of his mother’s name on the wedding ring. 

  
  
  
  


It takes time, but Donghyuck eventually drags himself out of bed, mostly because he hates to see Renjun on the verge of tears as he suffers, alone, under the stress of the situation, and the responsibilities of the company. 

 

With accompanied grief, Mr. Huang’s health is also deteriorating, and Renjun and Donghyuck scramble to pick up what he has left. It’s irresponsible, but Donghyuck gets it, and he doesn’t give a single word of complain, not when Renjun is quiet about his own struggles as well. 

 

Mark tries to help, but he can’t really do much in all honesty. He knows nothing about the ways to run a company, how the economy works. 

 

All he can do, is roam around the compound, talk with a couple of the staff, or spend his hours watching Donghyuck work. His days are boring, and it’s filling him with guilt, as he watches everyone struggle, except him. 

 

That is, until two men, with large, dark hats that cover most of their facial features, long, silk robes, visit the residence. 

  
  
  
  
  


Amidst everything, Donghyuck eventually found time to safely contact Doyoung and Kun, and though the message took a long way to reach them, it finally did, and they are here. 

  
“Donghyuck, I’m so sorry.” Doyoung says after a series of greetings, wrapping his arms around the younger one, as the man buries his face in Doyoung’s neck. 

 

“It’s okay,” he replies, more to himself than ever, as he is embraced by Kun as well. 

  
  


They pay their respects to MaMa, before moving on to discuss matters with the three men, Mark lurking in the corridor outside Mr. Huang’s room, curious at who those visitors are. 

 

They aren’t just normal business associates, who often come for business, or recent visitations, as they pay respects. He narrows his eyes as they exit the room now, because for the first time, the corners of Donghyuck’s mouth are lifted, as he laughs softly at something they say. 

 

“Those were really, the good old days,” Doyoung says as they walk, smiling as Donghyuck laughs, recalling the times when he and Mark bickered about everything and anything, or the way he always pouted to get his way with Johnny, who always gave in anyway. 

 

“Mark.” He stops short of his sentence as he raises his eyebrows in mild surprise, seeing the once-proclaimed dead man, leaning against the wall, as he eyes the the trio suspiciously. 

 

“It’s good to see you.” He smiles, while Kun nods in agreement, Mark simply staring blankly at them. 

 

“Right,” Doyoung says awkwardly, as he drops his open hand, “I forgot you have amnesia.” He clears his throat as he straightens his robes. 

 

“I was your Imperial Secretary, and he,” he gestures at Kun, “was your foreign minister. We all had a good relationship, if you’re wondering.” He concludes. 

 

“Uh huh.” Mark replies, still cautious. But, one look at Donghyuck’s face, the way he is so comfortable with them, he guesses it shouldn’t be too much of a risk to trust these two men, so he returns the handshake this time, offered by Kun. 

 

Doyoung rolls his eyes as he throws his hands up dramatically, in exasperation, grumbling about some favouritism, in which Kun simply tells Mark to ignore, as the four of them continue to walk the grounds.

 

It might not have been the smartest idea, to have Altansarnai in the same household as Doyoung, Kun and Mark, but Renjun had wisely moved out of his father’s household just before Donghyuck and Mark came back from Shenyang, moving just a little down the street. 

 

Besides, she is always busy with her little tea parties, and the huge cheque given from the Huangs to her and her money minded father, was enough to pacify her for a good amount of time. 

 

Hence, the trio are relatively safe, for the time being, as they reside in the Huangs. 

  
  
  
  


“What’s the progress like?” Donghyuck asks as the four of them retreat to the privacy of his room, and he pours them each a cup of jasmine tea, the wafts of richly deep fragrance, spreading through the room. 

 

Doyoung shrugs as he takes a sip. “Oh, you know. If everything goes well, I highly suggest all of you leave China next winter.” 

 

“The Organisation allowed both of you to leave?” Donghyuck asks as he raises his eyebrows. Not a very smart choice. 

 

“Well, this is important, and it’s not like anyone can overrule us.” Doyoung replies easily, setting the cup back onto the tray, thanking Donghyuck as he is poured a second cup. 

 

“What is this about?” Mark asks, intrigued. It is as if they speak an entirely different language, because he has no clue what they are talking about. 

 

“They are a part of the rebel group.” Donghyuck shares, almost nonchalantly, as if those few words don’t hold much weight. 

 

“What?!” Mark’s eyes are wide open as he stares open mouthed at the two men, who are calmly peeling some tangerines. “What?” He asks again, flabbergasted. 

 

“Yes. And we have just risked our lives,  _ and  _ the entire Organisation’s, to visit our one true king, who doesn’t even remember us.” Doyoung replies sarcastically, wincing as Kun gives him a hard stab in the ribs. 

 

“He doesn’t mean that. You were, and still are, very important and precious to us, my King. We  _ willingly _ , risked our lives, as did the Organisation.” Kun adds on, pointedly, as he glares at Doyoung, who merely shrugs. 

 

“Right.” Mark trails off, as he just blinks, trying to absorb all this information. Everything is just so bizarre, but that is what it has always been, since the very first day he met Donghyuck. 

 

“So you,” he points at Doyoung, “were my Imperial Secretary. And you,” he looks at Kun a little more warmly, “were my Foreign Minister?” Kun nods in approval. 

 

“So what are you doing here?” 

 

Doyoung raises his eyebrows, while a small smile forms on Kun’s face. 

 

It is amazing, how one can lose all their memories, and yet still retain a similar, or almost identical personality and intelligence level. 

  
  


Despite the fact that they had established that they had a ‘good relationship’, that doesn’t explain the fact, that they were willing to risk everything; their lives, the organisation, the revolution, for one, mere, human being. 

 

And Mark got that. He saw the loophole. He saw what was missing. The link they never told him. The thread that ran through the three of them; a relationship deeper than a business one. A relationship that resembled _ family.  _

 

Kun has always been the calmer, quieter one out of everyone. He thought before he spoke, he pondered before he suggested. He calculated risks, before presenting them. He knew exactly what he was doing, all the time. He had his life _ together. _

 

But when he received the news that Mark could possibly be dead, it all came crumbling down. He was devastated. 

 

So no, he never thought about the possibility that Mark _ could very well be alive _ ; his emotions overrode all other intelligence, and he collapsed. 

 

Kun never had much of a family; his family was one of scholars and high ranks; position and money over blood relations, as it was, for most of the palace. 

 

When he met Doyoung and Ten, that was when he first experienced what family is like. Then Johnny, and then finally Mark, and he thought, his life is complete. 

 

He knows of the dangers of being emotionally attached to these people; he has paid the price, as he went through the grief of losing three of them, and he had thought, that family was a terrible idea. It will only destroy you. 

  
And yet here he was, smiling like never before, happiness blooming in his chest, because now, he can finally remember, the sweetness of  _ family. _

  
  


“We were like your family.” Kun says, breaking the silence, as his train of thought comes to an end. “We were, and still are,  _ your _ family. Me, Doyoung, King Ten, King Johnny. And Donghyuck.” 

 

Mark raises his eyebrows as he exchanges glances with Donghyuck, who is quick to avert his eyes to send Kun a warning look. 

 

Mark doesn’t know yet. 

 

He doesn’t know the thread running between Donghyuck and him. He doesn’t know that they are more than just a guard and a royal, more than a ‘business’ relationship. And honestly, Donghyuck isn’t planning on telling him anytime soon, with the excuse that Mark has so much to process; when in reality, he is just afraid of what the outcome may be. 

 

What will Mark say? Will he be disgusted? Will they grow awkward? He doesn’t want to destroy the fragile relationship they have built over the past year. 

 

More importantly, Donghyuck doesn’t think he can quite take a immediate rejection as an answer. 

 

He doesn’t think he can live with the fact of Mark saying, ‘Oh really? But I don’t love you.’ Before, it was easier, because they both loved each other. It may have had differing levels, which led to imbalance, but  _ at least _ , they loved each other. 

 

Now, he is very certain, that Mark only looks at him like a thing of the past, at most, a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. He tells himself it doesn’t matter; but it does, doesn’t it? 

 

Kun captures the pain in Donghyuck’s eyes, and manages to skillfully steer the conversation into one about educating Mark of his past, about what he has done, his policies, how much the people loved him, how the people are still loyal to him, etc, etc, etc. 

 

But he knows, with Mark’s intelligence, and accompanying inquisitivity as it is with intelligent individuals, his careless slip will eventually lead to an exposure of something that Donghyuck was not yet ready to share with Mark, and he whispers a ‘sorry’, as they depart, in which Donghyuck merely shakes his head. 

 

“He will find out one day.” Donghyuck says with a sigh. “Just, not today.” Kun nods sympathetically, and pats him on the back, while Doyoung rolls his eyes affectionately, though he does solemnly squeeze Donghyuck’s shoulder for comfort. 

  
  


Kun tries his best, to steer Mark’s thoughts away from the provoking statement, that he knows, Mark is constantly mulling over. 

 

When he is not discussing politics, or learning words, calligraphy, calculating, drafting policies with Kun as practice — all of which, mind you, he actually does quite enjoy, and have genuine interest for — his eyes are far away, his mind wandering. 

 

Doyoung also occupies Mark’s time, as he teaches him how to wield a sword again, Mark having to soak in hot baths all the time, as his tense muscles receive little rest. 

 

Doyoung is relentless; he doesn’t care if Mark hasn’t touched a sword in a long time, and had forgotten how to hold one, he pushes Mark to his limits, an occasional accident or two, that has him receiving disapproving looks from Donghyuck and Kun. 

 

He  _ knows _ Mark, his talent, his aptitude, and he is right, that two weeks of intense training, has groomed Mark into a skilled swordsman. Not the best, but not that bad either. 

 

He teaches him how to ride his horse as well, galloping through barren land, where little Mongols guard, as they hunt and the wind runs through their locks, laughing, as they, together with Kun, have a little picnic on some dry grassland, enjoying the breeze, the wilderness, each other’s presence. 

 

Odd, how easily members of a family can fit back together so easily. Before he knows it, Mark is spilling all his fears, his questions to them, and they always answer honestly and easily. 

  
  


But there are two things he notice, they always vaguely answer. One, is his past. And the other, Donghyuck. Specifically, Donghyuck and him. 

 

He can ask about Donghyuck’s past, finding out about the kind of mistreatment his mother puts him through, which has him showing Donghyuck a little more gentleness and kindness than before. 

 

He can ask about the stupid things Donghyuck had done, the pranks he and Renjun played on the officials, his beautiful and pure relationship with Johnny. 

 

The moment, however, he mentions about himself and the other, Doyoung and Kun close off, dismissing the question, or leave the scene. As if their relationship was taboo, something that couldn’t be spoken of. 

 

And while Mark has opened up to them, they are not so close to the fact where Mark wants to push them over the edge. He doesn’t want to destroy their still rather frail bond. 

 

So he keeps quiet, but his eyes are open, for the opportunity to ask, as his curiosity grows day to day, and he watches Donghyuck move with grace, from room to room, locks falling over eyes as he writes, the frown on his face, the golden tablet, the eyes, the nose, the pink lips. 

 

Honestly, he can watch Donghyuck all day, and he wouldn’t be bored, as he memorises the other’s features. It is kind of creepy, but he is always so captivated by them. Something about the other always lures him in, captivates him, amuses him, intrigues him. 

 

And, he knows, Donghyuck doesn’t mind having Mark at the corner of the desk, reading a book, or playing with the inkstone, or fingers tangling with the red thread running through the golden tablet. 

 

Donghyuck likes it, Mark knows he does, the comfortable silence they always somehow fall into, the peaceful atmosphere the two of them can always create, when it is just two of them, him and Donghyuck, Donghyuck and him. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Running. He vaguely registers himself running in a field full of sweet flowers. The fragrance is strong, so strong, it is almost suffocating. He is not in the field anymore; it dissolves into scalding water. 

 

Someone in front of him. Long hair, smooth shoulders, pale skin, feminine grace. But there is a sense of fear coursing through him, but somehow he moves forward, and his fingers are on the lady, fast and nimble, and she is moaning, relaxing under his touch, soft and sweet, and yet her eyes are sharp as they glow amber in the darkness surrounding them. 

 

The water is rapidly turning cold, freezing, touch scorching, heart palpitating, and he is screaming as hands wrap around his neck,  _ suffocating, suffocating, air, he needs air……. _

  
  
  
  


He wakes, jolting up as he is drenched in cold sweat, panting as his eyes adjust to the darkness of his room, a lone candle shedding little light. What kind of dream was that? Was that, was that a memory? 

 

His thoughts are jumbled as he stumbles through the compound, breath nearly cutting short as he catches a glimpse of Altansarnai walking through the corridors, on her way back from Renjun’s office, to her residence. 

 

Her lips turn sly as she catches sight of a dishevelled Mark, and she smiles, coy, as she approaches him. “Mark,” she calls, and he is frozen to the spot as she comes close, far too close for comfort. 

 

She pats his chest, smoothing the robes, while his throat is tight, and his fingers tremble, and he feels terrible, his heart racing as he panics, her cold rings touching his neck. He jerks away, and she laughs, though the ugly sound is diminished at the sound of footsteps. 

  
  
  
  


“Altansarnai.” The voice is low, calm, deep, soothing. Familiar. 

 

“Ah, my dear Donghyuck. Haven’t seen you in awhile, since your little rendezvous with our little boy here.” Donghyuck smiles politely, thought his eyes gleam dark as he subtly pushes Mark behind him, in an effort to hide him away from the cunning woman. 

 

“Yes. Coming back from Renjun’s office?” He asks polite, though his voice is strained. 

 

“Oh, drop the formalities, Donghyuck.” She is quick to remove the honey in her voice, replacing it with unadulterated coldness and sharpness.  

 

“I must tell you,” her voice is high and shrilly, unpleasant. “That you, and your little boyfriend,” she throws Mark a condescending glance, “are lucky that Renjun and his father have enough money. Otherwise, oh, who  _ knows _ what would have happened to the both of you?” She smirks as Donghyuck stares at her agape, laughing as she makes a turn to her residence. 

 

Donghyuck grits his teeth, jaw clenched as his fists ball tight, anger coursing through his body. He has half the mind to go after that crazy woman, but is just stopped short, anger dissipating as quickly as it came, by the smallest of tugs on his sleeves. 

 

“Hyuck.” Mark’s voice trembles, and try as he might, the tears flow anyway, his dream vivid and almost too real to be filed away as a mere dream. 

 

He is scared out of his wits, cold fear running through his veins as his eyes flit to the ground under the wide eyes of Donghyuck, biting his lips as his trembling hands drop to his side. 

 

“Nevermind-” His words are cut short as Donghyuck is pulling him gently by the hand, fingers soft and gentle as they slide in and interlock with his, the moonlight shining kindly on them, as the rest of the residence quiets and sleeps. 

 

He pulls Mark into his room, and closes the door shut, steering him to the bed as he prepares a cup of tea. Handing him it, he simply watches Mark in silence as he drains the cup, warm liquid doing a little to calm him down. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks, eyes concerned as Mark simply shakes his head. 

 

“You can tell me anything, you know.” He says, soft, open, but cautious. He isn’t going to force Mark into saying things he doesn’t want to say. 

 

“I….it’s just a bad dream. I’m overreacting.” Mark dismisses the concerns, heat rising as he realises how silly he is. It’s just a bad dream. Nothing more, nothing less, and for goodness’ sake, he is a grown adult, who can handle some nasty nightmares. Why is he making such a big deal out of this? 

 

Donghyuck just frowns, and pulls Mark right back down, into his lap, just as the other abruptly springs up and is about to walk off. 

 

“Er….” Mark is pretty sure his face is bright red, warmth spreading through his cheeks, as his legs are swung over Donghyuck’s lap, half sitting on the bed, half sitting on the other’s lap, his wrist caught in Donghyuck’s grasp, his head bowed. 

 

Donghyuck, on the other hand, seems almost unbothered by this, neither blushing, nor stuttering, thumbs simply brushing against the curve of Mark’s wrist as he hums softly, watching Mark carefully. 

 

He wonders, for a brief moment, if Mark remembers the time they spent together, in this exact same position, but the dazed look on Mark’s face, coupled with the astonishment and shock, seems to say otherwise. 

 

And yet, Mark didn’t push him away, neither has he rejected the touch, minutes floating by as they stay like this, light touches, careful holdings, sweet humming.

 

Mark himself, isn’t quite sure why he isn’t appalled by their position, only for the mere fact that his heart is tugging him down, into Donghyuck’s lap, his embrace, the way his thumbs draw shapes on his wrist and the underside of his arm, slow and comforting, lulling. 

 

Somewhere in the lost vacuum of his memories, and the flashes he sees, of Jungwoo laughing as he plays with Taeil’s hair, legs draped over the other’s lap, puts him at ease, like this is what is supposed to be like, this is how it is supposed to be. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Kun pretends he doesn’t see it, but he does anyway, and while usually, he would choose to stay out of other people’s business, this is Mark they are talking about, someone he loves, like his very own son. 

 

They think no one sees it, but Kun is pretty sure everyone knows, that this is the fourth time in a row, that Mark is slipping into Donghyuck’s room, a pillow in his arm, biting his nails as he waits for Donghyuck to open the door, sinking into his embrace. 

  
  
  


“What _ exactly _ are you doing?” Kun asks, as he pulls Donghyuck aside. 

 

He knows Donghyuck isn’t ready to tell Mark just yet, but he thinks it is unfair, to lead the other on, when Mark is still trying to sort out his jumbled up memories, and here Donghyuck is, throwing some uncertain feelings into the messy mix. 

 

Donghyuck just glares at the floor. He doesn’t know either. But  _ what _ , is he supposed to say, to a crying Mark, who looks cute, handsome  _ and _ vulnerable, all at the same time, at his doorstep?

 

He is not going to lie, he loves it when Mark comes just as the moon rises, tears halting as he learns to snuggle into Donghyuck’s arms, falling into smooth, deep slumber, with his head at the crook of Donghyuck’s neck, Donghyuck staring at the ceiling, one arm around him, the other covering his eyes, as he tries to think rationally, breathe properly, heart speeding. 

 

It is so easy to fall into old habits, that he doesn’t think he has  _ quite  _ thoroughly thought, of the repercussions, of their new intimacy.

 

He knows what Kun is driving at, and he knows he should stop. They both aren’t ready: him, because he doesn’t know how Mark will take it; and Mark, because he is still recovering from amnesia, sorting through memories, and these nightly sessions, with their ambiguity, will only make Mark’s headaches even worse, and he will be more confused about everything. 

 

“I don’t know,” He confesses honestly, and Kun shakes his head, covering his face with his hands, exasperated. 

 

“Well, you’d  _ better _ figure it out. If you break Mark’s heart all over again,” Kun glares through his fingers, “Just know that both me and Doyoung will not be so kind about it, as the last time round.” 

  
  
  


Somehow, the warning doesn’t work, because before he knows it, he is setting up a trap for the both of them, as he takes an overly excited Mark out, for the lantern festival. 

  
  
  


As surreal as it may seem, it is like a dejavu, going back all those years, when they first went to the lantern festival together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	8. THIS IS FATE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andddd here we go!! diving into the depths of angst and a little dose of fluff
> 
> thankyou for all the comments last chapter!! i really appreciate it and it means a lot to me :)))

**CHAPTER 7: 3653** **THIS IS FATE**

 

 

Funny, how the world works, as if the war didn’t just occur a few years ago. 

 

The streets are the same; coloured with lanterns of every colour, children chasing after panicked fireflies, laughing, chattering, happiness high in the air, as the people grasp on to what little warmth and safety they have. 

 

The restaurants are full up, but Donghyuck has made a special pact with a lady selling noodles on the street, and he smiles as he greet the toothless old lady, who had graciously kept two seats in her bustling stall. 

 

“This is….what festival again?” Mark asks, as he rests his head on his palm, watching the way Donghyuck’s eyes dart as they soak in the sights of the place, the normalcy and the celebration, eyes reflecting flickering lights. 

 

“Lantern festival.” Donghyuck says with a soft smile, affectionate brown eyes locking with Mark’s darker ones. Mark’s breath just hitches slightly, and if Donghyuck catches the way the other’s face is colouring, he doesn’t comment on it. 

 

This time, they each have a bowl of noodles, Donghyuck now having a better pay, and they chat amicably, slow and steady, as Mark asks questions about the festival, the origins, and Donghyuck tries hard to hide the smile growing on his face, as he tries to recall the myths and legends in the depths of his minds. 

 

In moments like this, he can’t help but wonder how a person can be the same, and yet different, at the exact time. Mark is still smart, intelligent, inquisitive, sometimes stand-offish, but easily sinking into intimacy. 

 

And yet, there is a slight difference, as if the amnesia had turned a switch in him; or perhaps the void of his past, has left him a happier, more carefree person, that holds simplistic, child-like innocence, that Donghyuck truly appreciates. 

 

Sometimes, in the world of politics or business, everyone is too blinded by the concept of materialism and wealth; they forget what it is like to be happy with simple things. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


They walk along the streets, enjoying the atmosphere around them, Mark clinging onto Donghyuck’s sleeve as he is pushed around several times, not used to the roughness of the crowd, and Donghyuck laughs at the lost look on Mark’s face, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

 

Mark is burning to the tips of his ears, and is about to say something, when he is dragged out into an open field, Donghyuck pulling him by the wrist as they stop in front of a little stall opened in the middle of the barren land, purchasing something. 

 

It is only when Donghyuck has set it up, and is handing him a brush with the tilt of his head as Mark hesitates, does it dawn onto Donghyuck. His head is pulsing, and his hand falters, just short of taking the brush. 

 

Chocolate, warm, brown, eyes. Depth. Unreadable.  _ What is he thinking? _ He had said it out loud, but the surroundings have changed and they are not in a field, but instead there are some walls, dense flora. They stop. He knows who is opposite him. It’s Donghyuck, and he is saying something, but Mark doesn’t quite register, because a pulsing flash of words run through his mind. 

 

_ I’m a monster.  _

 

_ I’m a monster. _

 

_ I’m a  _ **_monster._ **

  
  


“Mark?” Donghyuck frowns as the other clutches his head, and he is immediate, in rushing to his side to catch the other before he collapses to the ground. “Mark, hey-” 

 

“Why am I a monster?” Mark asks, eyes tearing as his face scrunches in pain and hurt, confusion the most apparent, as Donghyuck stares back, mouth opening and closing like a fish, equally lost as he is unsure of how to respond. 

 

“What?” Is all he can say, one hand still covering Mark’s as they hold his head, the other, holding firm at the elbow, to keep him from falling. 

 

“Why am I a monster?” Mark patiently repeats his question, frowns etching his face as his expression grows dark, exasperated. He wants answers, and he wants them now, because something nasty is twisting in his chest, and somewhere in the depths of his mind, there is a voice chanting the word ‘monster’, and guilt is filling his being even though he doesn’t quite know why, his stomach churning. 

 

Contrary to the popular saying that ‘sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me’, words that cause emotional pain linger longer than they should, and these words are attached to the emotion, or the emotion is attached to it. Either way, whenever the word (or words) are recalled, the emotion comes swinging back, leaving the owner of the heart, breathless as they take the impact. 

 

Which is what is happening to Mark now. 

  
  


“You are not a monster, Mark.” Donghyuck says quietly, after a while, as they walk back, lantern abandoned, as he chews on the inside of his cheek, panic rising in him. This is the exact moment he has feared, for so long. The moment Mark finds out about his tainted past. It shouldn’t be anything to be ashamed of, or feel guilty about; he was as much of a victim as anybody else. 

 

But given Mark’s personality, and the way it has stayed constant even after his amnesia, Donghyuck is certain that the other boy will throw himself into a never ending pit of self guilt and shame, which he had done in the past. The traumas and memories have plagued Mark; Donghyuck had seen for it himself. He thought Mark, with amnesia, has now a clean slate, and no longer needed to worry about such things. 

 

In reality, because the brain categorises pain and hurt as one of the strongest feelings and emotions, it is more likely that memories associated with those two, will be retrieved, should any of his memories ever come back. 

 

“You’re lying. I know you are. You’re biting the inside of your cheek; so can you please tell me, what memory this is?” Mark pleads him as Donghyuck walks into the office, cursing everything and everyone, for the bad timing, because it just so happens that Doyoung, Kun and Renjun are here, and he has a feeling, that things are going to take a turn for the worst. 

 

“What’s going on?” Kun asks, as he stands, a flare of protectiveness rising in him, as he takes in the distressed expression on Donghyuck’s face. 

 

“Why am I a monster?” Mark asks Kun, thinking he would be more receptive, and give him an answer. 

 

“Who told you that?” Kun asks, frowning, and one sweep of the panicked look on Donghyuck’s face, he knows where this is leading. 

 

“About time.” Doyoung mutters under his breath. 

 

“What? Can someone please tell me?” Mark begs as he picks up what Doyoung says.

 

“You don’t want to know.” Kun quickly interrupts, but Doyoung clears his throat. “About time he knows.” Doyoung says in a clearer voice, rising decibels to be heard. 

 

“We have yet to discuss this, Doyoung.” Kun glares at the other, but Doyoung’s eyes are on Mark’s, frowning as he discerns. 

 

“He should know.” 

 

“No, he does not.” 

 

“What the hell is going on?” Mark bursts out, agitated and stressed. What are they going on about? Why is he a monster? Why are they so hesitant?  _ What has he done wrong? _

 

“He should. It is only right. His past…...will always, eventually, catch up with him. He should know. It is only right.” Doyoung says, careful and cautious, but clear in his intention, and Donghyuck is gnawing at his bottom lip, nervous at the proposition, as Mark’s eyes search his in confusion, face twisting. 

  
  


Kun grits his teeth, and throws his hands in the air, brows furrowed, fury coursing, and he walks out of the room, slamming the door shut, muttering something about Doyoung ‘never listening to him’. 

 

Doyoung sighs, low and deep, but he takes a seat. In a need for a boost of confidence, he lights his cigar, puffing out a string of smoke, as Mark takes a seat opposite him, jittery in anticipation. 

 

In all the years, Doyoung has always been the more brash one, the crude one, the blunt one. He has no fear that his words will hurt others, he says the obvious truth anyway. Humans are always afraid to face hard, cold reality; and Doyoung thinks it’s stupid that we blind ourselves with sugar coated lies. So, he always takes it upon himself to present the real truth to people, but never, in his entire life, has he ever thought it would be this hard. 

 

To explain, dissect, and detail every single traumatic experience that not he, but Mark, had gone through, was already enough to pierce his heart; and to see Mark’s face drain of colour, as his usual posture slumps, eyes shaking, bottom lip trembling, is enough to shatter him. 

 

“Mark,” Doyoung breathes out, his cigar nearing its end. “You are not a monster. I would say, that you are as much of a victim as anyone else-” 

 

“That is not for you to decide.” Mark shakily says, his eyes dark with unknown anger. 

 

He doesn’t even know why he is angry. Does he even have the right to be angry? But something, about knowing that the words ‘murderer’, ‘trafficker’, ‘gangster’, ‘sexual abuse victim’, are a part of him, and always will, with or without his memories, ticks him off, and he is running out of the room in a burst of adrenaline, not sure where he is going, besides the fact that at least the hot tears don’t slide down his cheeks, as the wind blows against them, drying them as quickly as they drop. 

 

What makes a person, a person? What makes them their identity? Is it what society, or others, or the circumstances, tell them who they should be, or is it the person themselves, to define who they are? 

 

As much as we would like to think, that we should be individualistic, and define ourselves, and while that is correct to a certain extent, it is inevitable that circumstances, prejudices, other’s thoughts and interactions with us, will define who we are. 

 

So, even _ if _ Mark doesn’t remember his past, others do. The remaining Red Rubies. The hostages. Donghyuck, Doyoung, Kun, Renjun. The court. The people who were at the trial. 

 

The past always finds its way back, creeping back to their owners, haunting them. 

 

They don’t like to be forgotten. 

  
  
  
  


Donghyuck sighs heavily, as he watches Mark rush out of the room. “This is why-” 

 

“Would you have preferred, if a Hostage, or a undetected and unarrested Red Ruby recognised him?” Doyoung asks, turning, straightforward. His eyes are tired, but determined, and he doesn’t regret what he has done. 

 

“No,” Donghyuck reasons, “but I believe you could have said it kinder, Imperial Secretary.” 

 

“Why mince the reality, when his past is like this? There is no doubt in it’s ugliness; and no point in covering it up.” Doyoung replies, and while his words are cutting, they lose their edge as he sighs, and the his lips turn down just a little, hating how he is always the harbinger of bad news. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck raises his eyebrows at the furious knocks on his door, and he is startled, when Mark barges him, pushing in as he steps in. His hair is tousled and windblown, his face flushed red from the cold and biting winds as he ran, his eyes swollen from the tears, his face contorted with fear, hurt, a mixture of terrible things. 

 

“What-” 

 

“Why didn’t you just give up on me? Why did you have to bring me back? Why did you let me  _ remember _ ?” Mark is crying all over again as his hits halt, and his head hangs as he sobs, breaking down as his heart clenches with hurt, guilt, shock, and on top of that, shame. The wind is blowing relentlessly beyond the walls, and they seal the room shut, with a loud bang, as they scream and howl into the empty night. 

 

“Mark, listen-” 

 

“No,  _ you _ answer my questions.” Mark retorts childishly, glaring fiercely into Donghyuck’s eyes, glassiness causing the ex-guard to turn his eyes away, unable to hold the gaze with equal ferocity. 

 

“You don’t have to answer the last two questions, because  _ okay _ , I _ asked  _ you, to bring me back. To help me remember. Piece back who I was. I’m not being ungrateful.” Mark is calming down a fair bit, as he withdraws a little, looking sheepish, but not without the confusion written on his face. He rocks on his heels, while Donghyuck leans against the table, biting his lips. 

 

“I was just…..you know, I ran out, and I was walking along the river, and I was just wondering-” His eyes lift from the floor, to Donghyuck’s face, who is watching his with zero calmness, because he knows what Mark is driving at, and he knows the answer to it, but he doesn’t quite know if he can  _ say  _ it out.

 

“That even though you knew I was such a terrible person…….why didn’t you just give up on me? I’m not…...a person worthy enough to be saved, or helped, right? Based on the way Doyoung just told us. Told me. About who I was.” 

 

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Everyone is worthy to be saved.” He whispers. “No one is 100% good, or 100% bad. There is always a 40-60, 30-70. We are all grey. We are not black and white. You are not any less deserving, than any other human being.” 

 

“And this is not who you are, Mark. You are…..more than that. More than whatever Doyoung told you. More than your past.” Donghyuck says sincerely, but he knows Mark is wanting more. 

 

“Why didn’t you give up on me?” Mark whispers, asking, searching for answers. “Not now. Back then. When you knew I was this…...this tainted thing. Why didn’t you give up on me?” His eyes are the worst; because they are so intense, so searching, so in need for answers, Donghyuck swallows a lump in his throat as he averts his eyes again, palms sweaty as the drops of saltish water, drip into the maghony. 

 

He closes his eyes, and bites his lips. Just as Doyoung had said, he will always find out eventually. It’s just _ when _ . And since tonight seems like the night that everything would be exposed, it is now or never. 

 

“Because,” Donghyuck takes a deep breath, as he takes up whatever remaining courage there is in his heart, to lock eyes with Mark’s. 

 

“I loved you.” 

  
  
  
  


Mark just stares dumbly at Donghyuck, and the other figured this would happen, as silence stretches, tense between the two of them, and he sighs, low and deep. Time to reveal everything. Time to expose everything, the truth, everything. He deserves to know. To piece back who Mark was. To know the past, is always crucial, no matter how painful. It helps to structure the present, aspire for the future. 

 

“We were…...not just guard and royal. We were…...” Well, they weren’t exactly in a relationship either. What do you call an unconfirmed relationship? 

 

“We were, well, lovers. Not in an official relationship. Just…...somewhere there.” Donghyuck ends uncomfortably, biting his lips. The flesh is tender from the continuous gnawing, and somewhere, he tastes the metallic, and unconsciously swipes over it, to stop the bleeding. 

 

“Oh.” Mark says softly. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it. 

 

“Yea.” Donghyuck replies, equally quietly. 

  
  


“Look, Mark,” Donghyuck continues, breathing out as he inhales sharply, as if gathering his strength, and he projects himself a little taller, shoulders pulled back, instead of slumped, lips pressed in a straight line, instead of pouting. 

 

“I said this before. Years ago. I don’t even remember how long, but I will say it again. You’re as much of a victim as anyone of them out there. You had no power to resist, no escape out of the system. Just because you got on the wrong side of it, doesn’t mean you’re completely guilty.” 

 

“Even  _ if  _ you are guilty,” He is already prepared for the counter that Mark would give, hands up to stop the mouth that is already open, and ready to spill a rebuttal, “You still have your worth. You need to remember your worth. You are…...a lot, Mark. And I’m not saying this because I’m in love with you. I’m saying this because  _ it is the truth _ . Don’t forget your worth, is all I am saying. Just because you have a tainted past, doesn’t mean you’re a tainted  _ person _ . One past, is not all there is to you.” 

 

Donghyuck explains, rationally, and with little emotion, but more conviction and persuasion. He is not  _ begging _ Mark to understand, to be convinced. There is no pleading tone. He is simply stating the obvious, he is stating what he believes in. That is enough persuasion in itself. 

 

Mark is taken aback. He doesn’t know where this generosity, or love, or whatever, is coming from, but he is touched beyond belief. He can never quite wrap his head around accepting someone who, by societal standards, have done so much wrong, is hopeless, not worth it. Not deserving, because he did something unethical, unmoral. It doesn’t matter if it was forced; he still did it, anyway. 

 

He doesn’t think he can accept himself. Ever. But here is someone, looking at him so innocently, so sincerely, accepting him for who he is, wholly. 

  
  
  


“It’s getting late.” Donghyuck says after a considerable period of time, slipping behind his table, as he tidies some strewn documents. “You should go back to your-” 

 

“Can I stay here? Just for tonight.” Mark cuts in, watching Donghyuck. 

 

Donghyuck watches Mark, and he contemplates, but considering the amount of information Mark needs to process at the moment, even if he isn’t necessarily the best person to be around at the moment, it’s better to have someone, as compared to no one, to be there for him. So he agrees, and relents, allowing Mark to simply lie on the bed, while he continues to clear some documents. 

 

But something in his heart is tugging him towards the bed, and he eventually gives up trying to finish the accounting. It can be done later. He allows his heart to pull him to the bed, even though his brain is blaring sirens and warnings, and sits at the edge, a leg propped up, as his eyes seek Mark’s, and the other’s seeks his, and they stare at each other in comfortable silence, words at the tip of their mouths, ready to spill, but something, holding it back.

  
  
  


“What were we like?” Mark finally whispers, and Donghyuck’s breath hitches, shoulders tensing.

 

“We were…...a nice couple.” He says lamely, but the exposing gaze of Mark’s, has him spilling. 

 

“We didn’t have a healthy relationship. It was unbalanced. We had our fair share of fights, but, that doesn’t mean we didn’t have fun times. We ended on good terms anyway, so it wasn’t too bad.” 

  
  


Mark considers for a while, eyes averting as he stares into blank space, trying to get used to the information, toying with the idea of being  _ loved. _ Romantically. He is sure Jungwoo must have loved him at some level, as with Doyoung and Kun, but those were more of parental, caregiver, kind of love and care. Not romance. 

 

“Do you still, er, love me?” Mark asks, a little awkward. 

 

He really wonders, because if Donghyuck still does, that the bulk of what has happened, makes sense. 

 

The way Donghyuck knows the littlest things about him, or that time, when Donghyuck showed him the tigers. Or the way Doyoung and Kun hesitate to speak about him and Donghyuck. The way Donghyuck looks at him, like he is always in pain. 

  
  


“Honestly?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, and Mark nods a little in confirmation. 

 

“Yes.” Donghyuck breathes out, unashamed, unflustered. 

 

He never had problems confirming the love he had for Mark; he never did deny it. It was the pain that always prevented him from saying it, but now, he has gotten used to it, so it doesn’t really matter. 

 

“Oh.” Mark says, small and quiet. 

 

“Did we…...er, kiss?” Mark pipes out, and Donghyuck chuckles a little as he uncontrollably runs his fingers through Mark’s soft locks, brushing the fringe out of Mark’s eyes. He should go for a haircut, Donghyuck muses, as he continues to brush the hair, never stopping, because Mark has always been so endearing, it’s often hard to stop. Also because, Mark doesn’t seem to mind it the least. 

  
  
  


“Yes. Multiple times. You were apprehensive at first, because of your past. But we got there.” 

 

He smiles at the thought of the way they used to kiss; sometimes bruising lips, blooming love marks, late mornings as they traced features with gentle lips. Warmth seeps through him as he remembers the hot passion, desperation, or the slower, languid, more loving moments; and that one last kiss outside the throne room, behind some wall. Every kiss was special, every kiss was unique, and he treasured each and every one of them in his heart. 

  
  


“Was I a good kisser?” Mark wonders, as he shifts to settle his head in Donghyuck’s lap, allowing the other to continue combing through his hair, Donghyuck’s other hand resting on his chest, as he plays with the tablet. 

 

“You were a very good kisser.” Donghyuck confirms, laughing a little at the way Mark blushes. The way he can say the darndest things, and get so easily embarrassed; it’s endearing, and only makes Donghyuck fall harder, every time. 

 

“Were?” Mark muses, mumbling. 

 

“Hmmm, we’ll see.” Donghyuck says cheekily, pressing a quick kiss on Mark’s forehead, before extracting himself to clean up. 

  
  


There are no tears, that night, as they fall into slumber, in each other’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys like this zzzz having a writer's block now RIP i just want to write TT
> 
> anyways, find me [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!!!


	9. AND THAT’S A FACT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if im updating too fast but anywayss,,,, 
> 
> long chapter ahead! thankyou for all the kudos and comments! i really appreciate it and they always make my day, and make me feel that writing this is worth it :)

**CHAPTER 8: 5073 AND THAT’S A FACT**

 

 

Eventually, Doyoung and Kun have to go back, because the Organisation was having some problems, and while Mark was important, the revolution was equally important, so they parted their ways. 

 

Kun, of course, gave ‘that’ talk to Donghyuck, who had listened solemnly, while Doyoung had entertained Mark, by racing him one last time through the grasslands. 

 

“We’ll be back, don’t worry,” Doyoung says, as he ruffles Mark’s hair, the other not really willing to let go, as he wraps his arms tightly around Doyoung. The three of them have become quite attached, and Mark was genuinely upset that they had to go, but he understands, that their line of work cannot be left unattended for too long, so he eventually lets go. 

 

He watches their horses gallop off forlornly, and Donghyuck soothes him, rubbing his back, assuring them that they will always come back. They always do. That’s what family is for. You come back, you stay, and even if you leave, you will always return. 

 

Mark however, cheers up soon enough. 

 

During the time that Doyoung and Kun visited, he had learned a fair bit of the economy, how a company works etc etc; and while a mere month doesn’t quite mean much to some, because of his high intelligence, and incredible way of absorbing huge chunks of information at one time, Mark now knows quite a fair bit. 

 

With much persuasion, and guidance from Mr. Huang, he is allowed to handle some works and documents, happy to spend his time in an adjacent table to Donghyuck’s desk. 

 

Having seen the way Mark smiles, the way he is a lot more chirpier, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, the way Doyoung and Kun showered him with love; Mr. Huang’s heart had ached at the loss of his wife, as the fact that his family will never be complete again, hits him. 

 

And yet, through the thorns of hurt, pain and loss, he finds something in him, to help Mark, to have a parental like relationship with him. As if transferring the love and care for his wife, onto Mark. 

 

They spend hours together, studying graphs and predicting the economy; talking and having tea with workers, understanding their concerns; and as Mr. Huang watches the way Mark interacts with the staff, he finally understands why Mark was such a good King, a good leader, a good ruler. 

 

In the beginning, he thought it had something to do with Mark’s past, his experiences. No doubt, he now has the knowledge about what has happened, but that doesn’t mean he actually understands or feels those events. It is one thing to know, and another to experience. 

 

And yet, void of the trauma of his past, lack of the first hand experience of commoner life, Mark is still able to communicate and relate to people vastly different from him. 

 

Perhaps it is a gift, the way he can adapt so easily, into anything, and Mr. Huang truly appreciates it. It has lured him out of his grieving shell, to do something useful; like grooming him into a fine accountant and boss. 

  
  
  


Renjun is more than happy, that his father is no longer wallowing in sorrow, and is instead finding purpose in his life. He is even happier, that Mark is willing to spend so much time with his father. 

 

Truthfully, he feels guilty, that he can’t spend much quality time with his dad; but it is really hard to balance work and life, and he is glad that Mark can fill in the places that he regrettably lacks. 

 

Donghyuck too, is happier, albeit a little shocked. Mark was raging havoc one day, about his past, and the next, he is skipping down the halls, flowers literally spilling all about him, as he talks sweetly to the staff, who have taken a great liking for him. 

 

When he asks Mark this, Mark simply replies, that he feels like a burden lifted from his shoulders. While the truth of his past has been a tragedy, at least oblivion no longer crushes him. 

 

He smiles when Mark says this. He is glad Mark is taking it so well, though, it is still not to be forgotten, the number of times Mark goes to his room in the middle of the night, face drenched with tears, fingers gripping his pillow, head hung, lips ready to spill a ‘sorry’. 

  
  
  


Tonight, is no different. 

 

He sighs as he blearily rubs his eyes, but makes no complaint, once the knocking on his door starts. 

  
  


Mark sinks into his arms the moment the doors open, and buries his face into Donghyuck’s neck, breathing shallowly, hiccuping a little, as Donghyuck closes the doors, and steers him to the bed. 

 

“Want to talk about it?” Donghyuck mumbles, though he already knows the answer. Mark would usually shake his head, say no, they would cuddle, Donghyuck playing with Mark’s hair, eventually falling asleep, and the cycle repeats.

  
  
  


“Yes.” Donghyuck starts at the response, head snapping up from arranging the bed sheets, to take a look at Mark to see if he is joking. But, apparently, not. The other is dead serious as he bites his bottom lip, fingers twirling with a loose thread, nails digging into the woollen pillow. 

 

“Okay,” Donghyuck breathes out, as he sits next to Mark on the bed. “Sure. What is it?” 

 

“Can we…..” Mark cautiously looks from Donghyuck, to the bed, eyes pleading silently. 

 

Donghyuck knows what he wants, and while before, he had hesitated, tonight, he doesn’t, and is quick to settle both of them into bed; Mark’s head resting on his shallow collarbones, his fingers stroking Mark’s arm, the blanket pulled to their waists, Mark breathing a little easier. 

 

“Okay. Better?” Donghyuck asks, as he shifts a little, to look at the way Mark’s eyelashes flay, long and pretty, the way his face is so small, his lips perfectly sculpted, looking so vulnerable as he curls himself into Donghyuck. 

 

“There’s this….woman, who keeps appearing in my dreams. She is…..the one Doyoung mentioned, right? My mistress, or whoever.” Mark stutters as he speaks, unsure of how to breach the subject. 

 

“Yes.” Donghyuck replies after a moment, thumbs rubbing circles on Mark’s arm, as if to preempt him for what he is about to say. “You had told me…...that she used you. Sexually. You were only fifteen then.” 

 

Mark inhales sharply, the mere words scalding him, and Donghyuck is quick to soothe him, pressing a gentle kiss at the temple of his forehead. 

 

“But, it doesn’t mean you are dirty, or used, or tainted, or worthless, or unwanted. You may have  _ felt _ dirty, and to have nightmares about her, as your memories come back, is normal. It was traumatic, and your brain categorised it as such. But that doesn’t mean you  _ are _ any less of a human, or any less deserving, okay?” Donghyuck says this, clear and sure, giving Mark as much of a reassurance as possible. 

 

“Why didn’t you just give up on me? Our society-” 

 

“Outcasts people who have sex outside marriage. Even if they have been raped, or whatever.” Donghyuck sighs as he finished the sentence for him. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right, and that doesn’t mean I follow those standards of behaviour.” 

 

“Besides,” Donghyuck mumbles as he whispers into Mark’s hair, the midnight black curling around him, and he closes his eyes as he remembers Mark’s scent. The sweetness, the sharpness, the contradictory natures. Perfect. 

 

“You’re perfect. For me, at least.” He says this more to himself, than anyone, but the way Mark tightens his grip on his waist, the way he leans into Donghyuck, burying his face at the crook of his neck, the way his eyes shine with happiness; he knows that answer and reassurance, is more than enough for Mark. 

 

He freezes, when he feels chapped lips press at the corner of his jaw, and he doesn’t move, as the lips barely brush over his cheek. 

 

“Mark…” Donghyuck trails, as the elder sits himself into Donghyuck’s lap, tangling the blankets, as his knees land on either side of Donghyuck’s legs. “What are you doing?” He muses, as Mark cautiously wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s neck, Donghyuck cupping his face, thumbs brushing over the jaw, eyes not quite meeting his. 

 

“Figuring out if I’m a good kisser.” He replies, inching forward. Donghyuck lets him take his time, allowing himself to be peppered with kisses all over his face, before a short kiss is given to his lips. He smiles, when Mark pulls back, hand on the elder’s back for assurance. 

 

He leans in again, testing the waters, cautiously parting his lips a little, as his lips slide in with Donghyuck’s. It is sending sparks down his spine, and while his head is pounding, no memories are flashing by, as they are drowned out by the way Donghyuck is moving against him, slow and steady, cautious, with enough pauses to tell Mark he can pull away anytime he likes. 

 

He is careful, as his thumbs brush over the tender lips, moving along Mark’s jaw, the other shivering at the touch. “Okay?” Donghyuck asks, concerned at the way Mark is freezing up. 

 

But in truth, the other’s mind is a blank. There is no memory of the woman, his mistress, no fears of touch. The only reason he is freezing up, is because adrenaline is coursing through his body, his throat is tight as his heart pounds, and he is struggling to understand the strange feeling of pleasure. 

 

He briefly nods, and his mouth is dry at the way his head is thrown back, Donghyuck’s hand carefully cradling it as he trails down the neck, soft kisses pressed gently and slowly, as they trail over the Adam’s apple, and back up. A kiss on the forehead, and Donghyuck is pulling away slightly, his irises blown wide, his eyes glazed. 

 

“Thank you.” He whispers, before carefully moving the dazed Mark off his lap, and into the mattress, brushing his hair, and placing one last kiss on his temple, before climbing out of the bed, and out of the room, leaving Mark’s heart pulsing with hurt, wondering what he did wrong. 

  
  
  


Donghyuck knows he shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have been too intimate. He got carried away, with Mark’s beautiful sculptures, the way his body dips and rises, the way he pants, the way his eyes are innocent. He sighs as he buries his head in his hands, sitting on a cold, marble bench in the garden, elbows on his thighs as he tries to breathe normally. 

 

He knows, Mark probably doesn’t actually love him. Mark is clinging onto something, someone in this case, who has given him all the answers he needed, about his past. 

 

He hasn’t even left the house, hasn’t met anyone other than Renjun, Mr. Huang, Doyoung and Kun. The staff don’t count, because there is little  _ real _ intimacy, besides platonic ones. 

 

It’s normal, thus, to crave for physical affection that he knows Donghyuck will easily give, because he  _ knows _ , Donghyuck is in love with him. Always have, always will. 

 

But truly, will Mark fall for him again? Donghyuck is not so sure. With those charms and good looks, intelligence and carefree nature, Mark will be having a line of suitors in no time, and he will have plenty to choose from. 

 

So doing this, whatever it is, cuddling in bed, kissing, making his heart flip, is not going to do them any good. 

 

Especially after what Mark had said the other day. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Just a few days before, they had gone to visit Jungwoo for the new years. Chinese New Year in China is always such a bustle and hustle, and Mr. Huang was not really up for meeting with the crowd and the large number of customers who will visit. Renjun had kindly suggested that he take on the role of socialising (though we all know he hates it), and have had his father, Donghyuck and Mark, go on a little holiday, to visit Jungwoo. 

 

It’s been around two years, of not seeing the other, and Mark was absolutely delighted, to be reunited with his temporal family. Donghyuck and Mr. Huang were equally welcomed, Mr. Huang hitting it right off with Jungwoo, since he was always interested in medical stuff, only, his parents never allowed him to pursue it, pushing him for business instead. 

 

It was one of those nights, where the three elders will stay in the house, smoking, drinking, enjoying slow life, while Mark and Donghyuck brought Chenle and Jisung to the beach, spreading a mat there, lying down as they stargazed. 

 

The city is always full of lights, they cover the beauty of the true celestial beings. It is only here, in the countryside, can they really see the numerous stars in the sky. There isn’t need for a lamp or a candle to make your way around the village; the light shining from above, is always enough. 

 

Jisung and Chenle had raced each other down into the beach, pushing each other, challenging each other to dip into the ice cold waters, while Mark and Donghyuck, rather cleverly, decided to wrap themselves in blankets instead, away from the freezing currents. 

  
  
  


“Hyuck.” Mark says, out of the blue, irises reflecting the stars in the sky, twinkling with them. 

 

“How are you still in love with me, though I may never fall for you?” His questions have always been straightforward, but this one brings a pang to Donghyuck’s chest, and he tries to control his breathing, to not give away the pain the words inflicted on him. 

 

Donghyuck breathes calmly, shrugging nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter. 

 

“It’s what happens when you fall in love. You love the person no matter what, though, I’m a little of an outlier, because I’ve loved you for,” he trails off as he actually counts. He surprises Mark, and even himself, when he says it out loud. “Coming to eight years now.” 

 

Mark is silent as he lets the information sink in. His heart is heavy with guilt, because damn, eight years? How does he…...how will he return that much love, affection, sacrifice? 

 

He is not going to lie, Donghyuck is handsome. With that perfect tanned skin, sunny smile, warm expressions, comforting words, wisdom, maturity and authority, he is pretty sure the other has many suitors. No, he is sure, the other has suitors. The number of love letters left at his post daily, from the staff or from whoever, or the number of pleas from high ranking generals, says enough about Donghyuck’s popularity, within and outside the state. 

 

And here he is, preventing Donghyuck from getting any love opportunities, or preventing others from having a shot at romance with Donghyuck; all because of a first love that has gone on for eight years, which, oh, by the way, isn’t reciprocated. 

  
  


“I’m sorry.” Mark blurts out, and Donghyuck turns to face him, Mark’s breath hitching. It is no joke, the way Donghyuck’s features are so perfect, even more ethereal, under the moonlight, the stars, the tranquility of the rhythmic crashing waves on pure white shores. 

 

“For?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, confused. 

 

“For preventing you from loving someone else. For…...not being able to love you back. Or with equal amount of affection.” Words tumbles out, and though unfazed, he can hear the faintest sharp intake of breath. 

 

It takes a moment, but Donghyuck shrugs. “Don’t be sorry. Even if you weren’t alive…...I don’t think I would have stopped loving you either. And as for not reciprocating my feelings; it’s okay. I never expected you to, and you shouldn’t force yourself either, and I’m not planning to force you, so it’s okay.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


That, was what he had said on the beach, and all seemed well, but now, he has kissed Mark, he has left marks on his skin, he has gone passed a point of normal intimacy, and has ruined everything. He promised himself, and Mark, that he wouldn’t force Mark to love him back, and yet no matter how he looks at it, he has done exactly that. 

  
  
  


The days that come are beyond awkward, Donghyuck trying his best to avoid Mark as much as possible, which is ridiculous, because they are literally working in the same office. The once noisy chatter, is now replaced with a suffocating silence, and Mark thinks Donghyuck doesn’t notice, but Donghyuck does note that Mark slips out more frequently than usual, to escape the claustrophobic environment. Donghyuck can only sigh. He brought it upon himself, honestly. This is the price he has to pay. 

 

He pretends he doesn’t notice, the way Mark doesn’t even refuse the offers of his colleagues, for setting up blind dates. Things have simmered down considerably, and in their fourth year of reign, with ever blooming prosperity, and months of quiet from the rebels that have been proven nothing to worry about, the Mongols are settling down, and Mark has been given the go ahead to venture outside of the residence. 

  
  
  


“You are kidding me, right, Lee Donghyuck.” Renjun sighs as he stirs his tea, watching his best friend’s eyes forlornly follow a chirpy Mark, who has his arm around some guy, chattering blissfully with some co-workers. 

 

“You are killing yourself.” Renjun comments harshly, and Donghyuck throws him a glare. “I know. No need to tell me so blatantly.” 

 

Renjun shakes his head. “Sometimes, I really wonder what goes on in that small brain of yours.” He gets a light hit on the shoulder as he deserves, over dramatising the pain as he winces and whines, catching the attention of some people close by, that, including Mark’s. 

 

His eyes catch Donghyuck’s, before the latter can turn away. 

 

He hates that look on Donghyuck’s face. The one of helpless pain, longing, and yet, the false facade of happiness, congratulating Mark on his newest date. He hates it. He wishes Donghyuck would stop him, argue with him, instead of pretending to be happy for him, because it hurts more than it should, to see a blinding smile that has lost its brightness. 

  
  


“You really should get over him.” Renjun says harshly. Sometimes, the real, hard truth needs to be presented to Donghyuck. Else, the other will simply be lost in his own world, falling deeper and deeper, until he loses himself completely.

 

“You think I haven’t tried?” Donghyuck mumbles as he glares, burying his face into his hands, sighing deeply. “It’s difficult, okay? Eight years is a hell long of a time.” 

 

“Which is why-” 

 

“I get it, I get it. Just give me time, Renjun.” Donghyuck cuts him sharply, sighing as he lies flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Hyuck.” Renjun comments, softer, gentler. He hates to see Donghyuck suffer, especially with all the boy’s been through; he really deserves some sort of a break from heartache. 

 

“I know.” Donghyuck replies, turning as he hugs his pillow.

 

But it is always easier said than done. 

  
  
  


Because now, he feels like his heart is ripped into pieces, as Mark briefly kisses some guy from one of his blind dates goodbye. He hadn’t mean to intrude or even cross this path, but something came up and he was needed at Renjun’s office, so he had to take this way back, which so happens to pass the exit of the compound. 

 

Maybe it is his delusions, maybe he is wishing for it, but Mark doesn’t look all that happy. Sure, he is all smiles, rosy cheeks, kisses, flowers, but as soon as the man disappears behind the corner, the facade drops and Mark sighs as he frowns and leans against the doorframe. 

  
  


He is trying to find love, he swears he is. He doesn’t know why either; maybe the prospect of him getting someone, and thus forcing Donghyuck to move on, is enticing. And yet, he has gone on a number of dates now, from spring, through till the air grows cold with snow, and still, no one quite fills the void in his heart. 

 

His dates sometimes stay over; and they always panic whenever Mark gets a nightmare, and they give him tea, a blanket, cuddles, but because they don’t even know  _ why _ he is having these nightmares (because he never told any of them), they don’t know how to comfort him either. 

 

Many a time, he wishes to swallow whatever pride or ego or whatever that is stopping him from going to Donghyuck, down his throat. But he can’t. He still thinks it’s unfair to Donghyuck, that he is limited because of a one side love, and it is unfair to him, that he is, in a way, forced into a love that he didn’t even know of, until less than a year ago. 

 

So he just stares into blank space, trying to get rid of the nasty images behind his eyes, the snippets and flashes, but still, a chill always runs down his spine, and he can’t shake the feeling off. 

  
  
  


Donghyuck sighs as he passes the exit, watching the way Mark’s eyes look so faraway, lost in the hustle of the city. China has never stopped being busy; she is up and on her feet days after her defeat. It’s her silent way of protest, of a promise of revolution, of an undying spirit. 

 

Meanwhile, Donghyuck isn’t that kind of revolutionary person. He just takes things as they are. If things have gone bad, so be it, it’s not like he can change anything. Or at least, that’s what he always thinks, and he has one too many headaches, associated with Renjun nagging at him to do _ something. _ But do  _ what _ ? What is that something? He can never answer that question. 

 

He sighs as he enters his office. Accounting has never been his thing. He can sit and socialise, talk and sing, for hours and days, and he will never get bored. Numbers? He is out in ten minutes, but for the sake of the company, for the sake of the Huangs, he powers through with lots of spite and self-talk rants to the rows of numbers and calculations. 

 

It is just a little past midnight, when his candles are starting to run low again, despite relighting them a couple of times, does he start at the sound. One knock, two knocks, and the third knock has him out of his daze and surprise. 

 

He gets up to open the door, stretching his arms and neck as he does so, his entire body screaming from aches. But his movements are halted, as he stares at the sight before him, Mark looking up at him, blinking rapidly. 

 

“Er…...” Mark is biting on his nails again, and Donghyuck has to suppress the urge to reach out and take it out of his mouth. When did he form so many bad habits? 

 

“I just…...er…...” Mark trails off again, not really sure how to explain his presence. He isn’t really sure why he is here either. He had no nightmares; he couldn’t fall asleep. 

 

And yet, here, just outside the doorway of a room filled with jasmine scents, low candles burning, a comfortable bed on the inside that he is quite familiar with, Donghyuck’s tan skin glowing even in the dimness, has him drowsy with comfort and familiarity. 

 

Donghyuck steps aside anyway, while Mark sheepishly trails in, already heading for the bed, in which he crashes into, face first, cheek squished against the soft pillow, sighing lowly at the feeling of warmth engulfing him. It’s always so  _ comfortable _ here, for some reason, and he vaguely registers his stupidity for not coming earlier. 

 

“Nightmare?” Donghyuck calls from his office, a little away from the bedroom. He doesn’t answer as the footsteps get louder, and Donghyuck is handing him a cup of tea, sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs. 

 

He contemplates lying, but eventually, he shakes his head, and Donghyuck closes his eyes in attempt to squeeze out the thought, that Mark is here because he  _ wants _ to, and because he  _ likes _ it here. Within close proximity of Donghyuck. 

 

“So why are you here?” Donghyuck asks, after a period of silence, opening his eyes, only to see that Mark is already half asleep, dozing off as he had haphazardly thrown the blankets around him. The nights can be cold. 

 

Donghyuck sighs under his breath, as he stands up to go over and pull the blankets over Mark properly, mumbling and nagging silently as he tucks Mark in, the other shifting, his forehead void of creases, a peaceful, serene look on his face. 

 

Just as he turns to go, his wrist is caught, and he regrets turning around with an eyebrow raised, because he can’t resist the sight of Mark looking at him innocently, cocking his head slightly towards the mattress. 

 

“Not today.” Donghyuck says softly, gently prying Mark’s fingers off him. 

 

“Please.” 

 

Donghyuck just shakes his head, as he is determined to walk out, but his footsteps halt at Mark’s tone. “I’m sorry, Hyuck. I’m _ sorry _ .” And then sniffles,  _ and then _ Donghyuck is backtracking to the bed, silently cursing himself and a familiar Renjun nagging voice, the words from earlier, ‘You are killing yourself’, playing in his mind over and over again, as he climbs under the bedsheets, cautiously wiping Mark’s tears. 

 

“I don’t know why I keep on going for blind dates. They don’t mean anything, I swear, and I’m sorry, Hyuck, I really am.” Mark mumbles in explanation, tears rolling down in an endless stream, as they are cut short by Donghyuck wiping them off. 

 

“They aren’t you. It sucks. They suck. They are terrible at loving me.” Mark whines, and Donghyuck’s heart shakes and wavers. It’s getting dangerous, but Mark knows exactly how to play the cards in his hand. Before he knows it, he is falling into the same, old trap. 

 

He carefully cups Mark’s jaw, catching the tears that are sliding along it, humming as he wipes them, eyes never meeting Mark’s as he contemplates and weighs the pros and cons. Mark never said he loved Donghyuck; but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance, given how he is talking. 

 

‘Screw it’, is the last thought on Donghyuck’s mind, as he drags his lips over Mark’s jaw, the other’s eyes closing at the familiar touch, lips fleeting to meet with Mark’s chapped ones, pressing in carefully, restraining desperation. They fit back easily together, destined stars always cross, and Donghyuck tastes the sweetness he thought he had forgotten. 

 

Mark parts his lips, and they are on the tethering edge towards passionate making out, as Donghyuck easily slips his tongue in, exploring the nooks and crannies that he is familiar with. Mark is panting as he pulls away, eyes glazed as they lock with Donghyuck’s, Donghyuck carding through his hair. “Okay?” He asks, and Mark wants to roll his eyes at the question, arms looping around Donghyuck’s neck, pulling him closer, as their lips meet again. 

 

Mark licks Donghyuck’s bottom lip playfully, coaxing it open as it flicks upwards to come in contact with the upper lip, before colliding with him, instinctively climbing into Donghyuck’s lap, fingers brushing over the nape of the younger’s neck. 

 

Donghyuck is holding him steady, hands firm on his hips, the familiar cut of the sharpness of them, welcoming as it sends a dull pain through his palms. 

 

His lips are travelling south, as Mark tilts his head up, thumb trailing a path for bruising lips to follow, marks blooming in their wake. Nips and bites, teeth marks stretching from collarbone to collarbone, and Mark is breathless, fingers tangling with locks as he tries to hold himself back. 

 

Donghyuck sighs, as his lips part from skin, and breathes out a laugh when Mark whines. “It’s late.” He whispers warningly, pressing a kiss on Mark’s forehead, before throwing him off him, slipping under the covers. He smiles when Mark buries his face into his neck, arms hanging casually at his waist, legs tangled, small puffs of breaths deafening as the room quietens. 

 

He waits till Mark’s breathing steadies, before pressing another kiss just short of the lips. “I love you,” he whispers, more as a reminder to himself than anything, as he closes his eyes, and slumber overtakes him. 

  
  
  
  


When morning comes, Mark is stretching himself, fingers riding through the sheets, when they still at the coldness of them. He pries open his eyes, to see the other side of the bed empty, and his heart is pounding as he rapidly rises and moves around the residence in search for Donghyuck. 

 

He doesn’t have to go far, to hear the notes floating in the air, and to see Donghyuck’s fingers nimble on his guzheng, sitting calmly in the balcony, that gives the view of the compound. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he wraps his arms around Donghyuck, nuzzling into his neck as he laughs at the way Donghyuck startles and scolds him. 

  
  
  
  


“Okay, we have to talk about this.” Donghyuck states, pouring them both a cup of tea. The maids have delivered their usual breakfast, and Mark is busy shoving buns into his mouth. 

 

“About what?” 

 

“Whatever  _ this _ is.” Donghyuck tiredly gestures, raising his eyebrows, and Mark sighs. “Fine.” He relents. 

 

“You don’t have to force yourself to love me, let’s just make it clear. And you don’t have to feel bad about me not having any partner. I choose this, so, it’s not something you should worry about.” Donghyuck starts, holding up a finger to counter Mark’s remarks. 

 

“On the other hand, I think it is only fair to me, that you don’t go on blind dates anymore. For now, we’ll just keep this…... _ thing _ , casual, until you have figured out what you want, okay?” Donghyuck says carefully, and Mark grins as he nods, flopping down as he sighs contentedly, head in Donghyuck’s lap. 

 

He has done this with his dates: kiss, hug, cuddle, head on the lap, fingers running through locks, his dates kissing his knuckles. But they never felt right, they never felt safe. 

 

But here, with Donghyuck’s fingers on the guzheng, the golden tablet sparkling under the rising sun, a fresh waft of jasmine floating by, the willows lazily shifting with the lightest breezes, it feels right, safe, and home. 

 

It feels like it is meant to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	10. HOPE WE ALWAYS FEEL LIKE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for all the comments and kudos! they are all so heartening to read :)) i might sound whiny but for some reason this fic has fewer hits than the other two?? but anyhow, one of my favourite chapters and once again, a little fluff with a overdose of angst!

**CHAPTER 9: 2127 HOPE WE ALWAYS FEEL LIKE**

 

 

Renjun frowns upon it really, when Donghyuck tells him the progress of the situation, and simply shakes his head that it is going to be a ‘casual’ thing, because he knows one too many ‘casual’ relationships, that have ended up disastrous.

 

Donghyuck merely shrugs at the reprimandation, because he can’t lie to Renjun, and more importantly, he can’t lie to himself, that he is soaking in the pleasure of having Mark constantly all to himself, with a new level of intimacy, that crosses the line of just friends, and stops short of a committed relationship. 

 

He vaguely registers making the same mistake as he did eight years ago; where they didn’t confirm anything, where misunderstandings arose, where he loved Mark more, resulting in an imbalance in their relationship. 

 

But  _ god _ , how can he resist it? While the bulk of Mark’s personality remains, there is something that is completely different about him as well, untainted by his past. The way he smiles without grimace or a frown. The way he crashes into Donghyuck, _ giggling, _ or into Donghyuck’s bed, now _ their _ bed. The way his eyes sparkle as he crouches next to some old ladies twirling sweet candy, innocence radiating off him. It’s endearing as confusing, but Donghyuck loves it anyway.

  
  


“Morning.” Mark blinks as he catches Donghyuck staring at him, again. Most mornings are like this, Donghyuck waking first, drawing the curtains so that the sun rays wake his partner. But before they rise, he traces Mark’s fingers with the setting moonlight, marvelling at how pretty the other is, _ how lucky he is. _

 

“Good morning.” Donghyuck whispers back, pressing a kiss on Mark’s forehead, a tightness in his throat, a clenching in his heart. He falls for Mark every single time, and he wonders if his heart can take anymore accidents. 

 

“Where are we going today?” Mark asks, stretching lazily, eyes shutting again as he sinks into the warmth of the bed. The silence after is jarring, but slumber is weighing heavily into his being, so he doesn’t pay much attention to it. 

 

He jolts right up when he hears a short, sharp, loud, “what?!” and scurries out, to find Donghyuck speaking so rapidly to a servant or official, that the words blur together in a tangle of panic and worry, as he flips through his papers, fingers nimble and desperate. 

 

He recognises the look on Donghyuck’s face, and slinks back into the shadows. He doesn’t know much, considering he is just a clerk for a segment of the large and expanding Huang business. He doesn’t attend meetings, entertain guests, nor does he discuss strategies or worry about the economy like Renjun and Donghyuck does. 

  
  


Too many times, Donghyuck retreats to the room far too deep in the night for anyone’s liking, Mark rubbing his eyes blearily. He always tries hard to stay awake and wait for the other, but he ends up falling asleep every single time. Lately, the other has been leaving his desk later and later, and Mark’s had enough. Donghyuck always overworks to the point of overexertion, and Mark finds it irritating, that the other doesn’t know how to care for himself. 

  
  


“Donghyuck.” He whines as he steps into the office, his shirt far too large for him, the edge just hitting his mid-thigh, his pants rolled up in an effort to look casually cute, his hair ruffled. He knows Donghyuck is weak for this look of his, and Mark is secretly proud that he can always lure Donghyuck into their bedroom with it. 

 

“Not today, Mark. I’ve got work to do.” Comes the immediate reply, and Mark pouts. “Hyuck.” He tries again, but the other is not budging, glasses slipping off his nose as he pushes them back hastily, frustrated as he tries to track  _ how on earth _ their stocks dropped so quickly. 

 

“Mark, I said no.” Donghyuck grits his teeth. He is frustrated and tired, and is annoyed beyond belief. The spring humidness is hitting their region, and the stifling nature of it only adds fuel to the fire. His jaw clenches when he feels Mark’s hands sling around his neck, lips trailing scorching path along his shoulders. 

 

“For god’s sake!” Donghyuck fumes as he shrugs Mark off, outburst just scrapping the mere surface of the fear in him, that the Huangs wouldn’t survive this particular hit. 

 

They’ve lost a big deal with the Persians, and they are scrambling for solutions. But the crumbling empire of the Mongols is not helping, and the fact that they still haven’t recovered from the bribe they gave Altansarnai and her father, has thinned the buffer they always had when a economic crises, which happen often as it fluctuates.

  
  


He wishes, for a brief moment, that Mark would stop being so needy, and would consider for a moment the stress he is under, but he swallows the rising bile, a deep frown etched on his forehead as he turns back to his work. 

 

Mark startles as he jumps back, eyes wide and heart stopping from the mere shock that Donghyuck had raised his voice at him. Never, has he done that before, always treating Mark like he is glass. He scowls and stalks off, just as Donghyuck buries his face in his hands, sighing lowly as a lone tear spills. But he is quick to wipe it away, gritting his teeth as he tries to focus on his work. 

 

No matter how, he can’t focus. Every time he closes his eyes to ease a pounding headache, the shocked and hurt expression of Mark burns behinds his eyelids, and his heart is drowning in guilt. Yet, he can’t seem to pull himself away, the numbers dragging him back like a plague, and he is stuck there till morning, not even bothering to enter his bedroom for a change of clothes, as he sets for a meeting with some officials who have also burnt the midnight oil. 

  
  


Mark tosses and turns that night, finally letting out a sound of frustration that Donghyuck hasn’t even come into the room to check on him. He lies flat on his back after a series of tosses, turns, and punches into the pillow, chest heaving as he stares at the blank ceiling, wondering if this was a wrong choice. Wondering if he had discerned wrongly. Wondering if Donghyuck really knows how to love him. 

  
  


Morning comes, and he is lethargic, but he drags himself out of the room, wanting to offer an apology or just talk to Donghyuck in general, but their residence is empty besides a few servants who have come early to clean the floor. He waves a greeting to them, asking where their other master is, but they simply state that they don’t know, only that a big meeting with the board has been called and he must be there. 

 

So, Mark just ends up having to do boring paperwork, more often than not daydreaming, as he wonders when Donghyuck will be back. 

 

But when the other does come back, in the late afternoon, he avoids Mark completely. No welcome kiss, no ruffle of the hair, no ‘how’s my favourite boy?’. He just simply walks to the bathroom, the sound of water running, filling the silence and stab of hurt Mark feels in his gut. 

 

He can hear the water pausing, the click of the tap, the door opening and another closing, as Donghyuck closets himself in the bedroom, hoping to catch a quick nap before the next round of meetings descends upon him. 

 

Things are even worse now, because, as the largest regular donors and contributors to the Organisation’s finances, they are not only faced with the challenge of pulling the Huang Rice Trade out of crisis, but having to find an excuse to answer to the higher ups. It could cost the revolution, it could cost thousands of lives, and the magnitude of the situation is crushing Donghyuck’s resolve and usual optimistic attitude. 

 

To top it off, he can hear the door creaking open, and he knows Mark is going to cause a scene, and he is really not up for an argument right now. 

 

“Why didn’t you come in last night?” Mark huffs as he crosses his arms, watching Donghyuck’s chest heave heavily. “Work.” Donghyuck replies, short and curt, because he really doesn’t want a fight, and yet, it is building up between the two of them. 

 

“Why did you shout at me? Why am I the one you take out frustrations on?” Mark’s words are sharp and they mask the pain beneath. Facades bulletproof, his words cut Donghyuck deeper than they should. 

 

“Why don’t you stop asking so many questions? Can’t you see I’m tired? Can’t you see the company’s in crisis?” He turns and sits up, frown etched, mouth twisted, heart on fire. He is just so tired of being a playtoy in the hands of Fate. He just wants a break; is it too much to ask?

 

“That doesn’t validify your terrible attitude towards me. I didn’t do anything  _ wrong. _ ” Mark knows he is coming off as childish and annoying, but he needs to get it off his chest. He wants to scream at Donghyuck, for not paying enough attention to him, for not coming to him when he is frustrated. He is confused and the fury is turning it’s sword inward; why is it that Donghyuck can be there for him whenever he needed it, but he can’t be there for Donghyuck why he needs it? He blames it on Donghyuck in the blinding anger, that he refuses to open up to him. 

 

“Why are you always so selfish?” Donghyuck shakes his head, words condescending as he scowls and attempts side step Mark and leave the room. So much for wanting to take a short nap. 

 

“So I was wrong.” Mark says, snarkiness creeping into his voice, Donghyuck halting his footsteps. “You don’t know how to love me.” 

 

He is startled as he is pushed against the hard wooden frames of the cupboard; their shared clothing tremouring inside. “Don’t say that.” Donghyuck says through gritted teeth. Mark blinks at the way Donghyuck’s eyes are glassy, frozen. He didn’t want to make Donghyuck cry. He just wanted Donghyuck to say sorry, not lash out at him, come for a cuddle, and be his pillar of strength just like he was for him. 

 

Donghyuck hangs his head, arm pressed against the splinters of their wooden cupboard, the other hand pressed into the frame, just short of Mark’s hips, just short of touching him, just short of pulling him in for a much needed hug that he is too prideful, too hesitant, too wary to ask for. 

 

It was always him supporting Mark, not the other way round, and after so many years of dealing with every burden by himself, it is difficult to ask for a shoulder to lean on, a helping hand to take some of the burdens. Renjun does it wordlessly; he knows how Donghyuck is like. Mark doesn’t. He needs verbal consent, he needs it spelt out for him, and it’s not his fault, because _ he doesn’t remember.  _

 

Turns out, he doesn’t need to open his mouth to ask for it; it is occupied as Mark’s fervish lips press against his briefly, arms looping around his waist, fingers gently pulling at Donghyuck’s locks to invite Donghyuck to press his face into his shoulder. The soothing pats on his back, and the numerous ‘sorry’s and ‘it will be okay’s, has Donghyuck crying for a different reason, as he clings onto Mark for support, pouring the past 24 hours of pent up stress, into a stream of tears that soak Mark’s shirt. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Donghyuck mumbles, after. They had parted, because Donghyuck needed to attend to another meeting, but the minute he got home, he went straight for the bedroom, straight into Mark’s open arms. Donghyuck mindlessly draws circles on Mark’s arm, the other methodically combing through Donghyuck’s tangled strands, humming in reply. 

 

“I don’t know how to ask. I…...guards don’t ask their royals for emotional support.” He explains, and Mark nods thoughtfully, pressing a kiss on Donghyuck’s head, and a brief one on his lips. 

 

“We’re not guard and royal anymore,” Mark mumbles into Donghyuck’s lips, trailing down to brush his lips over the prominent dip of the collarbone. “You can always ask. I’ll always be here for you.” 

 

“Thank you.” Donghyuck says quietly, head falling into the pillow, to avoid crushing Mark’s shoulder. 

 

“Don’t have to say thank you.” Mark says casually, nonchalantly almost. “It’s what boyfriends do, right?” He says it so naturally, so normally, as if it didn’t cause Donghyuck’s heart to stop, breath to hitch, palms to sweat. 

 

Then, he breaks into a smile. 

 

_ Boyfriends.  _

 

That’s nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	11. REGRETFUL THOUGHTS LINGER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!warning: plot heavy chapter ahead! this chapter has loads going on and may be a bit hard to digest,,,but i hope it's enough content to satisfy yall! it's been a hot mess of two days yiKES but im finally back! thanks for patiently waiting~

**CHAPTER 10: 6592 REGRETFUL THOUGHTS LINGER**

  
  


“The reserves are completely drained dry.  _ Completely _ . We are nearly down to our last few stocks.” One of their officials reports, and Renjun closes his eyes as he kneads his forehead, temples throbbing at the situation at hand. 

 

The global recession was reaching its peak. As the economy reached a severe downturn, by right, the Huangs should have a buffer to prevent them from going completely bankrupt, but it had been drained out to serve Altansarnai. 

 

The silence that follows the official’s statement, is the silent accusation pointing at the Huangs and Donghyuck, though none of their subordinates dare raise it up. When they had bribed Altansarnai and her father, it was a large sum of money that was given to satisfy their needs and put the Huangs out of trouble. On top of which, they demanded monthly intakes, and were commanded to host the numerous lavish parties Altansarnai is always so fond of throwing. 

 

It was supposed to be from their personal accounts, but eventually, the spending had infiltrated into the business’ accounts. It is considered embezzlement, but who will punish them? The Mongols don’t really care, the subordinates are not entirely for throwing over the Huangs because they know where they are coming from, they understood the direness of the situation then. Not to mention, the Huangs have been good to them for many years; the staff find it hard to push the entirety of the blame to their bosses. 

 

The most stressful part of the circumstances, is that, unbeknownst to most of the staff, Mr. Huang had agreed to be a guarantor and donator to the Organisation, and the Huang Rice Trade had become one of the biggest contributors to its income. 

 

Now that they can barely sustain themselves, how will they answer to the Council? It is now no longer the question of the survival of a company and its tens of staff members; it was the question of the survival of a  _ revolution _ . 

  
  
  


Hence why, now, Donghyuck is riding his horse, the thoroughbred, as she gallops through the plains, down south, to the rebel base, Mark pressed close against him, clinging tightly to his robes. 

 

As one of the council members representing the Huang Rice Trade, and with Renjun mostly in charge of the internal operations, he is obliged to go out to report, negotiate, and figure out a solution as soon as possible. 

 

Mark feels guilt course through him, as he watched Donghyuck pack haphazardly, whilst reading some documents frantically. 

 

The usually calm boss, was in a frenzy as he packed, panic and anxiety occupying his mind, together with the other worrying thoughts of the future. The pressure was high, and the burden was heavy; he didn’t want his mistake, Renjun’s mistake,  _ their _ mistake, to cost the freedom of the Chinese. 

 

When he was first propositioned the idea of joining the Organisation, he was zealous and enthusiastic, while Renjun was slightly more reserved. Donghyuck had only thought of the glory, the heroism, while Renjun had considered the burdens that the participation will bring, and it seems, that he has more foresight, because Donghyuck is crushed under them. 

 

Mark doesn’t quite know how to make the other feel better, because it seems, like no amount of kisses, can blow away the creases etched in Donghyuck’s forehead, so against all security rules and regulations, he requests to go along with Donghyuck. 

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for him, Donghyuck is far too tired to consider what it means, for their previous King to visit a base that is loyal to him, and had agreed. To have Mark by his side, he will feel safer, more secure, more comfortable, a home he can return to, after long days of meetings. 

  
  
  


However, he didn’t think that, more often than not, Mark  _ isn’t _ by his side. 

 

He stares gloomily at the soldiers surrounding Mark, touching him, asking him,  _ how can he possibly be alive? _

 

A normal person would be taken aback, shrink away, blush at the attention. But Mark takes it in his stride like a real King, and answers their questions one by one, relating his story to them. 

 

Doyoung and Kun were not exactly pleased when Donghyuck showed up with Mark right behind him, but now, as they stand together with Donghyuck, and watch the men clap, laugh, dance, moral soaring high as they listen to their true King, they think it mightn’t have been such a bad idea at all. 

  
  
  


Perhaps it runs in him, the ability to connect to people. Mark hits it off right away with the soldiers, encouraging them, motivating them, and they hang onto his every word, despite the vocabulary being simple, despite the message being the usual they hear from their superiors. 

 

There is just  _ something _ , about the way Mark looks them in the eye, sits on the dirty ground with them, eats their phelbian food, that has them engaged and mesmerised. 

 

Maybe, because he acts like the true leader he is; working beside his people, and not a commander, placing himself on the pedestal, as if he is too good for them. 

 

A true leader, connects, builds trust, friendship and relationship, and based on those fundamentals, earns the respect of his subordinates and effectively leads. The black hole of amnesia could never touch these principles and qualities that Johnny, Ten, Doyoung, Kun, and even Mark himself, had instilled in him. 

  
  


“Where are we going?” Mark asks as he falls in step with Donghyuck, fanning himself with a paper fan one of the servant girls had made for him, and Donghyuck glares at it like it is the most offensive thing in the world. He snatches it, and says nothing as Mark whines for it to be given back, the soldiers trying to hold back their laughter at the mere childishness of their actions. 

  
  


Perhaps, also, it is how  _ real _ Mark is. He hides behind no cold, arrogant facade. He is his authentic, genuine self, all the time, and the soldiers see that, and appreciate it. 

  
  
  


“The affected areas. Earlier, before the economic crisis hit, the rebels were starting to fight back around the rural parts, and of course, the Mongols got involved as well. It’s too small of an event to be reported back to the Capitol, which turns out to be a good thing-” He pauses as he hears the sharp intake of breath next to him, the halting of footsteps, crunching of burnt grass going silent. 

 

Mark is stopped dead in his footsteps as he surveys the area. In all the stories the soldiers had relayed, he had sympathised at what they said, but he never knew it was  _ this  _ bad. 

 

Burnt houses, torn down, ashes blowing with the wind, taking a piece of a quiet town with them. The edges of the wooden huts crumble to the touch as they hold the heat of the fire the Mongols had set on them. Bloodied bodies, some half burnt, the smell of flesh and iron fill the place as black covers the earth. 

 

The soldiers move through the town as they scour the area for surviving victims or possible belongings, though not much can be saved in this devastation. Mark stares at them in disbelief, the nonchalance on their faces, as if this doesn’t mean much. As if, this was normalcy. 

 

“May have turned out to be a good thing for us, but not necessarily any less devastating.” Doyoung continues Donghyuck’s speech from behind, walking forward, as he winces whilst stepping on some cut out, burning flesh. The disfigured faces of the victims always haunt, so he never quite looks down, at where he is going. 

 

“So, what do you think?” Doyoung asks, a hint of a cynical smile on his face as he watches Mark’s face shatter, from shock, to disbelief, to heartbreak. Donghyuck rubs his back comfortingly; it is always jarring, the first time you see these scenes firsthand. 

 

It is nothing like the stories conveyed, or the drawings that try to paint and encapsulate the scene. It is only, stepping on ground, smelling the smoke-filled air, hearing the moans and groans of dying, unrescuable victims, watching the place dissolve into nothing, that it hits you, in the heart, of the atrocities men can do to men. 

 

Mark has to turn back, brought back by some soldiers, who still wear healthy smiles, while Mark pales. He stumbles back into his hut, alone, because Donghyuck still needs to survey the actual area, go through all that destruction, and plan out the statistics, logistics, and finances needed to cover the repercussions. 

 

Mark has no idea how Donghyuck pulls through it, as he shudders under his blankets during the scorching hot afternoon, chill running down his spine as he is met first hand, with how cruel people can be, how fickle life is, how meaningless it can be. 

  
  


“Mark,” Donghyuck calls softly as he enters their shared tent, fitting automatically into the outstretched arms of his boyfriend, soothing him as he hums under his breath to the familiar nursery rhyme. He combs through Mark’s hair, but the other pulls away too fast, stabbed with the ashy, citric smell, that clings onto Donghyuck’s clothes. 

 

He waits for the other to change, wash up, come back smelling like jasmine, Donghyuck,  _ home _ , to sink into his embrace again, as Donghyuck rocks him rhythmically, back and forth, kissing his temple in an effort to calm the other down. It doesn’t work much, as Mark drenches his fresh, crisp clothes, with a fresh bout of tears, heart aching at the thought of the lives lost. 

  
  


“It’s not fair.” Mark whispers, voice small like a child’s as he plays idly with Donghyuck’s bracelet, mumbling into the other’s chest. 

 

“What’s not fair?” Donghyuck hums as his lips touch Mark’s forehead assuringly, fingers light on his skin as they interlace loosely with the elder’s, the contrast in their skin tone, beautiful. 

 

“Everything.” Mark says quietly, dropping the golden tablet, burying his face into Donghyuck’s neck as their fingers tightly lock. 

 

“Nothing’s fair in love and war.” Donghyuck whispers back, throwing the cold, hard reality at Mark. 

 

The other winces and nods, sighing as he wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s middle, drawing the two of them impossibly closer. The proximity grounds him to reality, comforting him. 

 

“I know,” he answers, barely above a whisper. “I just wish it was.” 

  
  
  
  


_ Don’t we all?  _

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“You want to  _ what _ ?” Doyoung asks, his words as sharp as his eyes as his head snaps up, glaring at the pair as if they have committed a sin. 

 

There is a pause in the writing, but then Kun pretends he hasn’t heard a single thing, lifting up his brush to dip into more ink, while Doyoung continues to stare daggers at the two, Mark holding his sharp gaze with firm eyes, while Donghyuck bites his nails. 

 

He knew it wasn’t a good idea from the start, but he went along with it because he saw some good in it too; now, he will probably be getting the bulk of the blame, for allowing Mark to even bring it up. 

 

“I said, I want to train with them. Work with them, plan strategies, make me the face of the rebellion,  _ whatever _ . I just want to do  _ something _ . You can’t expect me to do  _ nothing _ , after what I saw yesterday.” Mark fires as he crosses his arms in a huff, panting from releasing all the frustrations in one breath. 

 

Doyoung just frowns, his lips drawn into a hardline as he taps against the wooden table, Donghyuck getting jittery from the noise. 

 

“No.” Kun replies. He barely looks up from his work, but he has stopped writing, unable to concentrate on the words when his heart is screaming with emotion. 

 

Mark just stares at the two of them, annoyed as he clenches his fist. 

 

Here he is, offering his help towards a rebellion, and they are rejecting it? Why would they? He knows they are short on manpower, given that the previous few invasions were typically unsuccessful. So why are they rejecting potential help? Just because he is one person? 

 

Then it clicks. 

  
  


“You are all being selfish.” His eyes are accusatory as they sweep the room, eyeing Doyoung, Kun and Donghyuck. 

 

“Excuse  _ me _ ?” Doyoung asks through gritted teeth, baffled at the statement, while Donghyuck just chews harder on his bottom lip. Kun keeps a calm facade, unfazed by the statement, but in his heart, the heartstrings are pulled and it aches, because he knows that Mark is  _ right _ .

 

They  _ are _ being selfish.  _ Especially _ the three of them. Anyone around the compound, can immediately sense the shift of atmosphere ever since Mark stepped into the base. Everyone is livelier, more willing to work, because their dead cause is now suddenly alive and well. It no longer feels like they are fighting an uphill battle, no matter what reality is. 

 

Their leader, their King,  _ is alive _ , and  _ that _ is what motivates them, soars their morale, pushes them to work harder. Not to mention, that Mark has been alongside with them, listening empathetically to their worries, sharing anecdotes and his amazing story of survival. All these have lifted the spirits of all around him, and certainly, the rebel troops were beginning to gain strength. 

 

If a mere presence like this, can motivate the soldiers so much, imagine what it will be like, when he is on the field, working, training, planning beside them. He will no doubt ignite the spark that he has already set, on the rebellion. 

 

Making him the face of it, will bring great results. The people will be more willing to side with the rebels, more willing to smuggle in goods, weapons, food, people, for the cause. 

 

Many had lost hope, surrendering to fate and the Mongols, but if a hope that their King is alive spreads through the region, imagine the kind of uproar it will bring. It would mean added scrutiny from the Mongols, yes, but it also means a higher chance of winning, as the likelihood of people contributing and resisting the current ruling are very much higher.

 

So why had he said no? Why had he said no, despite knowing the benefits and little consequences coming from this? He knows the answer well. 

 

It is because it is  _ Mark _ . His beloved adopted nephew. A boy he had come to love and protect, and was unwilling to give up. 

 

Because he knows, if Mark is allowed to train, to become a soldier, to become the face of the rebellion, he automatically becomes the prime target of the Mongols, thereby decreasing his chances of surviving the war, with how cruel and ruthless the Mongols can be. 

  
  


He is being selfish, for keeping Mark, for, in a way, saving Mark, and trading this one life for the millions out there, oppressed by the current rule. 

 

He is being selfish, for not thinking of the larger group, the Organisation, and for only thinking of himself, how his heart will break, if he loses Mark once again. 

 

He is being selfish, for saying no, for saving himself of heartbreak, and potential sacrificing an entire revolution that not just him, and Doyoung, but tens of others, have anticipated and planned for the last couple of years. 

 

Family is important. But what is he, first? A family to Mark, and vice versa, or a commander of a revolution? What is of a higher priority? What will make  _ Mark _ happy?

 

Sometimes keeping loved ones in, trying to keep them safe, is in the end, only a restriction, and will never work for the good of them. 

  
  
  


So he gives the approval, despite the grumblings of Doyoung, despite the pained expression Donghyuck gives him, despite his own heart cracking, on the verge of breaking as he risks it for heartbreak. 

 

Because it is worth it. 

 

It _ will  _ be worth it. 

 

He will  _ make _ it, worth it, he vows to himself silently. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  


Mark glares at Donghyuck as the other shoots yet another perfect arrow, bullseye. He isn’t allowed to train with the regular soldiers yet; they want Renjun and Mr. Huang out of their state, and come into rebel-occupied area, for safety. If word goes out, that it is true, that the King is alive and well, and spreads like wildfire, Renjun and Mr. Huang are at risk as Altansarnai and her father are sure to target them. 

 

So here he is, training privately with Donghyuck as his personal coach. He thought it would be fun, loving, caring, because Donghyuck is his  _ boyfriend _ . 

 

But it is absolutely  _ not _ fun,  _ not _ loving,  _ not _ caring. Well, he _ supposes _ he is exaggerating, Donghyuck did massage his calves as they screamed with over exertion, but that doesn’t stop Donghyuck from instructing Mark to run 10km and back, do intense trainings, box punch bags till his knuckles bruise, do weights until he is collapsing on the ground, drenched in sweat. 

 

And yet, he will always grit his teeth, stand up again, and press on.

 

Because just as he is on the verge of giving up, Doyoung would pass him some water, Kun would sneak in some sweets, Donghyuck will press kisses all over him when night falls, whispering praises that has his stomach churning with pleasure. 

 

And, perhaps, because just as he is on the verge of surrendering, flashes of rising smoke and dismembered bodies will rise behind his eyelids, and he  _ has _ to push on. 

 

For them, for his country, maybe even for himself, a little redemption for his past deeds. 

  
  
  
  


That, however, doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate trainings. 

 

He hates it more so now, seeing how excellent Donghyuck is at archery, at swordsmanship, at riding, at commanding. It annoys him, with childish spirit, and at the same time, makes him a proud and boastful boyfriend, a secret smile creeping onto his lips as he watches the arrow fly and sink into the dot of ten yet again. 

 

“You’re unbelievably good at this.” Mark whines as he raises his bow, huffing in annoyance. 

 

“Why? Jealous?” Donghyuck teases as his back is pressed flush against Mark’s, helping him to adjust the angle of the bow, Mark gritting his teeth at the teasing as he closes one eye to narrow his focus to the target.

 

“Breathe, hold, let go.” Donghyuck guides, their fingers letting loose of the string at the exact same moment, the arrow flying neatly to land on a nine. 

 

“Hmm, not too bad,” Donghyuck teases, while Mark scowls and rolls his eyes, loading another arrow as he aims once more. 

  
  


Mark is a fast learner, and with enough practice, his skills become better and better. 

 

He no longer simply displays the skills, but he couples them with strategic planning, deceit and mind games. He circles Doyoung instead of attacking first as he always does, fakes a left and then attacks from the right, leaving Doyoung breathless as he skids back in defense, a smile playing on his lips as he raises his hands in surrender. 

 

Kun is mostly quiet about the progress, sometimes second guessing his decision to let Mark participate in the rebellion. 

 

Still, he never voices his worries in front of Mark, simply encouraging him through small actions, like bringing over herbs that will alleviate the muscle pains, or giving him a pat on the shoulder. And in return, Mark, sensing the hesitation, would spend time with Kun as well, giving much valued opinion to the next course of action. 

  
  
  


“I’ve never seen you so protective over someone.” Doyoung muses one night, the two of them alone and stuck in the office as they prepare the last of their paperwork. Tomorrow, Renjun and Mr. Huang arrive at the base, and then, the real work begins. 

 

Kun merely shrugs. “He is family.” 

 

“....Sure.” Doyoung scoffs, flipping through the papers. “You spoil him too much. I’m not blind, Kun. Too many sweets will destroy the diet Donghyuck has planned for him.” 

 

Kun just sighs. He  _ knows _ , he just hates to see Mark so tired, so drained. A couple of sweets to cheer him up won’t hurt much, would it? 

 

“.....I can’t help it.” 

 

Doyoung merely hums, acting uninterested, but certainly very invested, and Kun knows he’s listening, so he spills the hurt kept in his heart all these years. 

 

“He looks like my younger brother. My only family member that loved me, for…..me. Not because I’m smart, not because I’m a potential moneybag they can invest in.” Kun quietly shares, fingers fiddling nervously. 

 

Kun has never really shared his struggles with Doyoung and Ten despite how close they were; he never felt comfortable enough, or never felt like this information was important. 

 

“......Well,” Doyoung clears his throat as he clears his papers, and goes to Kun, steering him away from his desk as well, sitting him on the bed. 

 

“Do you love Mark because he  _ looks _ like your younger brother, or do you love him, for who he is?” Doyoung asks the question that Kun often checks on himself, to make sure he is not living and feeding some delusion.

 

Kun ponders and frowns, really thinking about it, but then shakes his head. “At first it was because he looks like my younger brother. But now, it’s because he’s  _ family _ , Dongyoung.” Kun says Doyoung’s birth name, and Doyoung sighs as he wraps his arms around Kun, the other suddenly very much smaller. 

 

Kun doesn’t say much, but his quiet confidence and commanding aura always demanded attention from all in the room. It was very rare that he came to people so raw and vulnerable, so small and pliant. 

 

Doyoung tucks him in, sighing lowly as he watches the facial features smooth, and Kun looks a lot younger. He is in his early thirties, but with a constant frown and worries etched on his face daily, he always looked much older. Here, he looks as young as 25. 

 

Doyoung wishes, for the thousandth time, that Ten and Johnny were here, so that he can share his concerns for Kun with them, and he knows, they will give him the right advice, give Kun the right cures, the right treatment for the frowns to go away. 

 

But they aren’t here. 

 

And he doesn’t know how to help. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The Huangs finally arrive, and Mark is allowed to train with the troops. The ex-King practically  _ skips _ out into the training grounds, astonishing everyone as they cheer him on. The base becomes livelier, soldiers sparring with the inspiration Mark ignited in them, after an impressive battle with Donghyuck, both of them out of breath as they end with a stalemate. 

 

The horses are groomed, and even they, seem stronger, bigger, ready for a war (or perhaps it is because Mark treats them to sugar cubes every time he visit the stables). Mark even has a knack for them, combing through their manes and coats, talking to them as if they were people, and the stablesmen learnt from his care, treating the horses better, caring for them with more humanity and a little less spite. 

  
  


Mark doesn’t waste his free time smoking or drinking as the other soldiers do, and if it weren’t for his status, they would have ridiculed him. 

 

But precisely because of his status, they begin to follow his example; riding through the plains, feeling the adrenaline coursing through their veins as the wind blows through their hair, cloaks flapping with the wind, practicing their skills, no matter in what area, humbling themselves to ask others to teach them to cover their weaknesses.

 

They follow his example, of making relationships, talking about their lives back home, to install some form of normalcy, a sort of goal or home to return to, when all this is over. 

 

They enjoy the little musical sessions in the evenings, clapping along to the melodies Donghyuck produces from the instruments, appreciating the way they flow and float, light hearted and joyous, winding down in healthier, more productive ways. 

 

The morale and discipline, thus, improves tremendously, and Doyoung has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as Kun gives him a ‘I told you so’ look, when the soldiers uniformly shook the ground with their spears, a low, rough chorus of voice reporting to their generals. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Amazingly, despite receiving so much admiration, so much attention, so much love from the men and women around him, Mark is always, only staring at one person with happy crescent eyes, shining smiles, open arms. 

  
  
  


Donghyuck crosses his arms as he shakes his head with a dopey smile on his face, as Mark loses yet another round of chess, in which he demands another round. 

 

“That’s enough, Mark.” Donghyuck calls. It was late, and a shift of guards had gone and go. They all needed rest. Especially with the Huangs and other members of the economic council assembled, tomorrow, a big meeting was to be held, before the first of the attacks were to be waged. 

  
  


Doyoung and Kun had accurate prediction; the moment the Huangs left, Altansarnai and her father had heard of the rumours that were rapidly spread by the growing rebel troops. 

 

Gossip was rich in the markets, and they knew exactly how to rile up the crowd. Before long, the only talk of town, was the shadow of hope that their King was alive, and the Mongols were outraged as they stormed the Huangs, only to be greeted with desertedness. 

 

Altansarnai and her family, had allegedly, or so the source had said, are being punished severely by the Mongol court, for receiving bribes and withholding information important to the ruling Genghis Khan, to which Donghyuck had looked pitifully at Renjun, who simply had a neutral mask on. 

 

Deep down, Renjun had loved Altansarnai; she was beautiful, could be kind, could be cheerful, and was absolutely sweet. But seeing the flip side of her in the last year, had his heart hurting as he saw the true colours of what she was like. It pained him even more, to see the once beautiful lady, spiral into a ugly person. It certainly didn’t help, that he had no way out of the marriage. 

 

Anyhow, he was here now, and he was ready to fight for a cause he had always believed in; even if it means the deaths of people he had once loved. 

  
  
  
  
  


Mark shrugs as the soldiers boo, as he cheekily waves to them, jogging up to Donghyuck. The other immediately slides away, having warned Mark multiple times that their relationship should not be revealed yet, given the complications it could bring, but Mark always has a hard time keeping his hands off Donghyuck. 

  
  
  


“Tomorrow's a big day.” Donghyuck whispers as he faces Mark, whose eyes are starting to droop close, cheeks squished into the pillow. 

 

“Mmhmm.” The other hums, and Donghyuck has to fight the urge to coo at how cute Mark could get. 

 

This, is also another side that previously, he couldn’t quite see. An innocence that the past had robbed of Mark, was now untainted and Donghyuck was eternally grateful for that. 

  
“Nervous? You’ll have to give a speech to the council, and the crowd.” Donghyuck asks as he brushes the locks falling over Mark’s eyes away. 

 

“If you kiss me, maybe not.” Mark mumbles, cracking open an eye to just catch Donghyuck rolling his eyes and flipping over, to face his back at the other. 

 

“Hey! You haven’t kissed me in the longest time  _ ever _ , Hyuck.” Mark whines as he clambers onto Donghyuck, hooking his chin over Donghyuck’s shoulder, crushing him in a hug. 

 

“I just did, like, this morning.” Donghyuck grumbles as he complies and turns around, to meet the shining eyes of Mark. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again at the coyness and childishness, but doesn’t hesitate to place a quick kiss on Mark’s eager lips. 

 

“That’s not a kiss.” Mark grumbles as he settles himself into Donghyuck’s lap, the other huffing in annoyance. Slumber was just taking over him, but now he has to peel his eyes open as he props himself up, lazily slinging his arms around Mark’s waist, feeling the back tense under his fingertips. 

 

“You okay?” He asks, concerned. He is so attuned to the finest of clues that could lead to Mark having a breakdown due to his traumas, he is always quick to pick them up. 

 

Mark just shrugs, a dark look passing over his face as his arms squeeze Donghyuck’s shoulders, breathing starting to quicken as a flash passes through his mind. 

 

Lips dragging over skin, the overpowering stench of roses, a high laugh with the narrowest eyes of slyness. Fingernails scraping his back, scalding contact of skin as she arches her back. He has to swallow back a sob. 

 

He winces as Donghyuck’s fingers press firmly onto his hips, hating how instead of the sparks of electricity that usually course through him, it is sparks of hypertension and fire, scalding him, and he has to work to keep himself close to Donghyuck, and not pull away. 

 

“I’m not her, Mark.” Donghyuck says quietly, searching to lock eyes with Mark’s as they wander to look at everywhere but him. 

 

“I know.” He forces out, and Donghyuck has to cradle his head as he buries his face into the other’s hair, crying quietly. 

 

He hates it when the memories flood back like this. It is always so sudden, so abrupt, so unprecedented that it throws him off his guard, and ruins everything. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and his heart clenches harder at the soft, comforting words that spill from Donghyuck’s mouth. It is always the same, him always taking, finding it so hard to give back. 

 

The amount of love and affection, the kind of tolerance Donghyuck has for these attacks, is beyond his imagination and belief; he wonders if he would love Donghyuck the same, should the situation has been reversed, and it scares him, that he has no definite answer to that. 

 

“Don’t feel guilty.” Donghyuck whispers as he pulls away slightly, thumbs brushing over Mark’s high cheekbones as they collect the tears. “It’s not your fault. It never was and never will be.” 

 

“I’m sorry I can’t love you.” Mark blabbers out. 

 

He immediately regrets it, as he watches Donghyuck try to hide the pain he feels; but it is not so easy. 

 

“It’s alright.” Donghyuck says evenly, pressing a soothing kiss onto his forehead, shifting to tuck the other into bed. 

 

“You don’t have to love me.” Donghyuck promises, reassuring him, a kiss on his cheek. 

  
  


But how does he tell Donghyuck, that he wants to, he just doesn’t know how to?

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck pretends last night doesn’t happen, his usual bustling self as he leaves earlier than Mark, since he is a part of the council. 

 

On the other hand, Mark can’t pretend last night didn’t happen, and had tears slipping down his cheeks when the tent door flapped back down, burying his face into his hands, an overwhelming sense of self hate washing over him. 

 

But today is a big day. Today is the day the revolution begins, the product of years of hard work, will be showcased to the world. He draws himself together, and counts to ten like Donghyuck taught him too, imagining broken pieces assembling themselves together, and he is all smiles that don’t reach his eyes, as he walks towards the meeting room, laughing as the soldiers throw their arms over his shoulder, his heart unable to spill a single, genuine, one. 

  
  
  
  


“We have enough reserves to last a war for a year, if the casualties do not mount too much.” An official informs, and Kun nods as he heads the table, conjoining him is Doyoung, and to his left, Donghyuck together with the Huangs. The table is filled with surviving ministers and other large companies, who have the means to fund a costly revolution. 

 

“If the countries we are allied with keep to their promise, the economy and finances should continue to stabilise, and sustain us through it.” Another official reports, and Kun agrees, as they each take note for the percentage they should give, and the percentage they will receive back as a reward. 

 

A good hour is used as for haggling to satisfy everyone, but they eventually come to a good agreement, written and then stamped by each member, Donghyuck collecting each of their thumbprints. 

 

He sweeps past Mark with no less than a glance, and Mark would have understood the professionalism, but this time, it hits his heart and he bites his lips, averting his eyes as he leans back into his chair, trying to hide away from the prying eyes of his two adoptive uncles. 

  
  
  


“Our plan is to end this within a year. Over that, the price paid is too much, and not worth it. It will become a tragedy, rather than the intended revolution. 

 

“We will begin south and then move upwards, and we will begin when the full moon comes, on the fifth month, during the deep heat of the summer. The Mongols are from the north; we will thus use the treacherous weather to our advantage. Do we agree on this?” Doyoung proposes. 

 

He had already planned and received confirmation from his generals, but he also makes it a point to inform and receive confirmation and approval from the economic assembly. That way, everyone feels involved, are involved, and become one, single unit, of the revolution. 

 

Everyone is given a slip, and casts their vote into the box at the head of the table, where Donghyuck sits, and he counts the votes with a steady hand. He nods to Kun, who breaks into a winning smile, and thanks the assembly. 

  
  


“May I invite our King, to give us an opening address?” Kun smoothly proceeds, and Mark moves to the speaker’s seat. He strides with confidence, having learnt from Mr. Huang how to switch between the personal and professional facade, and betrays no sort of hurt or pain, or conflicted feelings as he begins to address the council. 

 

His voice washes over Donghyuck as he pays little attention to the content, though his strong persuasiveness, charisma, and charm come through strong, and no doubt took the breath away of the council as they burst into applause multiple times. 

 

He finds it difficult to focus on what is being said, complimented or discussed during it, because he vaguely registers himself falling  _ again and again _ for Mark, the way his eyes carry the weight of responsibility, his shoulders drawn back in pure confidence, the way he addresses the crowd with waving gestures. The way he uses simple language instead of fanciful ones, having the ability to insert humour despite the gravity of the situation. 

 

Donghyuck feels wave after wave of love crashing over him, and he hates how he falls so easily for Mark, over and over again; because Renjun is right,  _ he is only killing himself. _

 

To fall in love with someone who has repeatedly told you they can never love you back, is an attempt of suicide, like throwing your heart into a lake of fire, knowing you will never receive it back. 

  
  
  


_ Is it worth it?  _

 

Donghyuck watches Mark return back to his seat, smiling, the innocence still there but much more subtle, as he speaks to the ministers who approach him after the meeting, with maturity and ease. 

 

_ Is it worth it? _ He wonders as he starts at the fingers snapping at his face, crushed into a hug that takes him by surprise. Renjun rarely initiates affection. 

 

_ Is it worth it? _ He muses as Kun gives him a look that can only mean trouble, and he knows he will be called in later to spill everything that has happened. He tries not to sigh too loud, though Kun throws him a scolding look at the sound. 

  
  


_ Probably _ , is what his last thought is as he smiles to an approaching official, his train of thought switched off, as he attends to the matters at hand. 

  
  
  


“So?” Kun crosses his arms, and Doyoung shoots him a warning look. 

 

The three of them could meet in peace, without the possible intrusion of a certain someone, given that that person is busy giving his speech to the army, where they aren’t especially needed. 

 

“Don’t _ terrorise _ him.” Doyoung simply states easily as Kun throws back a sharp glance, raising his hands in surrender. 

 

Donghyuck sighs as he relays what happened the previous night. “He just said he can’t love me. That’s all. I don’t know why he is feeling terrible, because it should be me, that’s feeling terrible.” 

 

Doyoung blinks at the information, and then huffs. “You two have the most complicated, unbalanced, sweetest, contradictory relationship I have ever seen; it’s worse than Johnny and Ten’s, and you know how bad theirs was.” 

 

“It wasn’t  _ bad _ .” Kun retorts in favour of Donghyuck, rolling his eyes at the ruthless words of Doyoung. So many years, and still the other has trouble filtering out his thoughts. 

 

“I think he’s just feeling a little guilty.” Kun suggests, as he turns his attention back to the younger. The other nods thoughtfully, considering it. “Maybe.” He shrugs. 

 

“Just don’t…...perhaps it is a little selfish and insensitive of me to say this,” In which Doyoung raises his eyebrow, but continues to flip through his files, “But please be gentle with him. Let him take his time. I know it’s difficult for you, Hyuck, but it’s not entirely his fault, is it?” Kun pleads on Mark’s behalf, and Donghyuck has to push down the self-pity to smile back and agree.

  
  
  


It is nearing the evening when he finds a pocket of time to extract himself out of the suffocating crowd. With the economic council present, the entirety of the rebel troops are at the base, and there is just  _ too _ many people. 

 

He slips out of another person’s grasp to speak to him, speedily heading for the stables as he unties his horse, and it is not much longer that he is flying down towards the southern mountains, in search for refuge in his favourite tigers. 

 

To his surprise, someone else is already there, back against the tree as he closes his eyes, the tigers lapping at his hands. 

  
  


Mark leans against the tree, head tilted slightly as he knocks back against the bark, trying to find something in himself to gather strength to face Donghyuck. But he is too unprepared as footsteps crunch his way, and before he opens his eyes, he knows who it is, from the very sound of the way they walk. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Donghyuck asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he watches Mark discreetly sigh, pulling himself into a proper sitting position. 

 

“There were too many people at the base.” He says vaguely. “You?” He asks, and he lifts his eyes, only to find that Donghyuck is no longer watching him, surveying the sky. 

 

“It’s going to rain.” He doesn’t answer the question as Eun Kyung nuzzles at his palm. The last of the summer monsoons were hitting the region, and the looming clouds were a sign of it. 

 

“Head back soon.” Donghyuck advices, kissing the tigers’ on their noses as they purr for more of his attention, but he is caught in the stare Mark gives him, and he can’t decide if he should give Mark a kiss too.

 

He contemplates for no more than five seconds, before turning his heel, walking away, while Mark feels his heart break just a little more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eEK IM SORRY but life's never a straight line folks
> 
> anyways, find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	12. JUST DON’T FORGET THIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter update yayy!!! thankyou for all your comments, kudos and ccs from the last chapter!! i always appreciate them, and i always feel so encouraged by them :)   
> hope you guys will like this chapter! personally my fave :)

**CHAPTER 11: 3946 JUST DON’T FORGET THIS**

 

 

Word spreads and the peasants are evacuated quickly, or as much as possible to avoid the worst of the clashes. Medical clinics are set at periodic stops, and to Donghyuck’s surprise, he catches Mr. Huang greeting Jungwoo amidst the fluster of activity. Apparently, he had agreed to help, bandaging wounds and treating bruises; his pretty looks and charming voice attracting a good deal of attention, and perfect remedy for the sick and fallen soldiers. 

  
  


Kun lines the knights on the parchment sketching out the borders of China. They have no desire to free the entire empire; they will stop at their previous borders, and the Organisation had agreed with it. 

 

Things began looking up when the sky cleared and the ground hardened as the sun scorched, and the Chinese, used to the blistering summers, are unfazed by the humid winds; while the Mongols struggle through the rising heat and dryness, barely keeping themselves together as they war against both Mother Nature and the relentless, undying spirit of the Chinese. 

 

The Mongols, despite having in their possession one of the purest breeds of horses with brown, shining fur, strong legs, and healthy bodies that can carry the weight of ten kilograms of armour and a heavyweight soldier with more muscles than 3 Chinese men combined, are at a sudden disadvantage at the sheer multitude and tenacity of the Chinese. 

 

It was not like those years before, where they were easily demoralised. Not only have they sharpened their skills and swords, their tactics have also grown in wisdom, and it is a number of times that the Mongols have lost as they tried to push through by force, only to be set back by the wittiness of Doyoung and Kun’s brains combined, surprising them at the most unexpected moments. 

 

It has the Organisation smiling victoriously, as they watch the knight pieces push forward and forward, towards the borders near Mongol, and the knights of the enemy falling over, left with no more than 10. 

 

It is just short of a month of a year since the revolution started, that the Mongols waved the white flag and retreated back to where they came from, the Organisation and the entire of China, hosting celebrations. 

 

Happiness and victory was high in the air, as bottles of wine were opened, seeping through the towns’ streets, streamers and colourful papers blooming as they decorated the area, music floating and filling the air. 

  
  
  


And yet, Mark finds it hard to celebrate, as he enters another region that they have just recently gained back. 

  
  


He stares helplessly at a little girl walking past him with the rest of her group, all children, parentless. Losses are inevitable, and these children are just a fragment of the ugliness of the war. Something tugs at his heart, as a memory flashes by him. 

 

There is not much there, just round, innocent, dark eyes, staring helplessly at him. A guilt filling his heart. He crumbles when he recalls what Doyoung had told him, about him being a trafficker, and wonders if the memory has something to do with it. 

 

There is a tap on his shoulder, and he is forced to lift his face from the security of his hands, hastily wiping away the falling tears. He freezes when he looks into round, innocent, brown eyes, and a shy smile as the girl wordlessly, and selflessly, offers him a treat. 

 

He finds some strength in himself to pull a smile from the depths of his despair, as he graciously accepts it, ruffling her hair as he holds her close, burying his face into her war torn clothes, her smile unfaltering, while tears spill from his eyes, and stain her shirts together with the crimson ones. 

  
  
  


Donghyuck watches from a distance, heart breaking as he sees the sight. 

 

_ Where will the orphans go? _ He had asked one of the commanders, and he had simply shrugged, saying that it was none of their concern. 

 

They will treat them for their wounds, and repair their houses, but that is the most they will do. Afterwards, they are on their own, to figure out how to feed themselves, how to fend themselves, how to survive, all by themselves. 

  
  


He catches a boy, no older than four, whimpering as a guard tries to approach him, to treat the wound on his leg. The boy screams and thrashes, clawing at the man’s face, drawing the attention of the soldiers. 

 

Donghyuck winces at the way they touch their daggers, and raises his hand to have them step down, approaching the boy cautiously. He stares back, wild eyes, gaunt cheeks, fear rampant. His face is not that of a normal, but he is  _ still a child _ , normal or not. Donghyuck mutters quietly, soft and hush, drowning out the chaos around them. 

 

It doesn’t take long for the boy to go whimpering into his arms, as Jungwoo carefully treats the wounds. Donghyuck tries to distract him, but it’s not easy, especially when the boy is watching Jungwoo work with intense interest, causing Jungwoo to glance uneasily at him. 

 

“Strange for a boy so young to be so fond of such gruesome things.” Jungwoo comments as he starts bandaging the wound, the boy losing interest as he shifts his focus to the glistening golden bracelet on Donghyuck’s wrist. 

 

“He’s too quiet, for a child so young. They would be crying by now.” Jungwoo continues. 

 

“He was screaming just now, didn’t you hear?” Donghyuck says easily, brushing the matted hair of the boy. 

 

“That was him? Huh, wouldn’t have guessed. He is as silent as a ghost, here.” Jungwoo says, peering at the boy, who shrinks away as he traces the engravings on the tablet. 

  
  
  


“What’s your name?” Donghyuck asks, gently. 

 

Something about the boy, tugs at his heart. When he had gone the next day to the hospital, the boy sat alone at the window, not the least bothering to communicate with the other children, and instead opted for arranging, and rearranging a set of beads, over and over again. 

 

He opens the door of the tent, only to see Mark in pretty much a similar situation, drawing with a pretty little girl, as they lie on the bed. He doesn’t think he has seen Mark glow so much after their little awkward fight. 

 

The smile falls when Mark sees Donghyuck, but forces a grin as he tries to stroke the boy’s cheek, in which the boy flinches, and caves into Donghyuck’s chest, Mark pouting while Donghyuck breathes out a laugh. 

  
  
  
  


Donghyuck was mistaken. They aren’t drawing, they are writing. 

 

“She’s deaf.” Mark tells Donghyuck, as he brings in a tray of sweets and drinks, the boy clambering off Donghyuck’s lap to arrange them by colour. 

 

“Huh.” Donghyuck replies, watching the girl, seemingly unaware of her world as she kicks her legs and writes something down. Her eyes shine as she holds up the parchment, words speaking a hello to Donghyuck, in which he beams, and ruffles her hair. 

 

“What’s her name?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark immediately replies. “Mei An. It means beautifully silent. Suits her, huh?” He asks, passing him a cup, careful not to touch the boy. He’s a little sensitive, as Mark gathers, and is careful not to rile him up. 

 

“Mmhmm.” Donghyuck says tensely, feeling the atmosphere starting to get more and more awkward. 

 

“What’s his name?” Mark asks, seemingly unbothered by the rising tension,  _ or is is just Donghyuck? _

 

“I don’t know. Hey, Mark.” He blurts out, setting the cup down abruptly, turning to face the other, who simply stares back at him. 

 

Silence stretched between the two of them, and besides the occasional sounds of brush on paper, or the treats being laid on the table as they are arranged, the world stops for a moment, and the chaos outside silents, as they get lost in each other’s eyes. 

 

Donghyuck is yearning to just draw Mark close, but he decides against it, as he clears his throat. They should talk first, and  _ then,  _ cuddle. 

 

  
“I’m sorry” He breathes out. “I….shouldn’t have been so cold to you.” 

 

“......It’s not entirely your fault. I was kind of avoiding you during the war too. I…..should be the one saying sorry.” Mark says uneasily, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

 

“Are you…...okay? The war might have brought back some memories.” Donghyuck says gently, inviting Mark to take a seat next to him, in which the other takes complete advantage, taking a seat in his lap instead, resting his cheek on Donghyuck’s shoulder. He didn’t realise how much he missed this, until his heart starts to ache, and he’s crying again. 

 

Donghyuck doesn’t ask, neither does he prod, simply rocking Mark back and forth, while the little girl comes to drape herself on top of him, waving her hands wildly as she panics and tries to comfort him. 

 

Mark lets out a teary laugh as he extracts himself from Donghyuck, hugging her close, while Donghyuck just manages to keep the boy from toppling the entire pot of tea on himself, huffing as he pulls him into his lap. 

 

They catch each other’s eyes as they cradle their respective wards, chuckling under their breath as they lean close, lips touching gently. 

 

“I missed you.” Mark confesses as they part, the girl glaring at the boy who had taken her sweet to add to his arrangement. 

 

“Yea. Me too.” Donghyuck replies, as he pulls the boy apart from the girl, the two of them bickering in their own language of gestures, sticking of tongues and glares, Mark shaking his head at the two of them, wondering out loud how _on earth_ they will all live in the same house. 

 

“We’re living together?” Donghyuck says mindlessly, and immediately regrets it when he sees the look on Mark’s face. “I mean,” he rushes to cover up, “I don’t mind, I just-” 

 

He is cut short as Mark presses a quick kiss to his lips, laughing as Donghyuck’s face flushes. 

 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” He comments cheekily as he makes his way out, girl on his hip. 

 

It takes Donghyuck a good few seconds to scurry after, huffing in annoyance, while they all bicker, a warmth blooming in them. 

  
  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  
  


Something clicks for the both of them, and they begin their search. They scour through hospitals, and pick out orphans with certain disabilities. Whether it is the difficulty to communicate, or the loss of hearing, it doesn’t matter. Something just tugs them towards this children, as they sign contract after contract, to take these children under their wing. 

 

So it made sense, when Doyoung had offered the seat to the throne, or whatever they called it — was it president or prime minister? —Mark had declined immediately, instead requesting for funds to open an orphanage. 

 

“A  _ what _ ?” Kun asks, baffled. Since when was Mark so interested in children? 

 

“Donghyuck and I want to set up an orphanage. We just need a little cash to start us off to get a house for them, and when Donghyuck gets his first paycheque, we’ll pay you back.” 

 

Donghyuck had been appointed as finance minister, as with each and every single representing member of the economic council, getting some form of position in the Ministry of Finance. 

 

The Organisation had decided to do away with the monarchy, since their previous King doesn’t want it, and there really isn’t anyone else for the job.

 

Instead, they adopted a western idea, to form something called a ‘government’, which was essentially like the court, only, it had absolute ruling power now. 

 

They didn’t adopt the ways of the western ideology of freedom, they simply set up a government to control everything; it’s easier that way. 

 

To be honest, Mark quite likes this new concept. It does away with the class differences, the huge disparity between the rolling riches of the royalties, and the outstanding poverty of the poor. Doyoung and Kun worked jointly as Prime Minister and President, neither position really much different from the other. 

 

They rebuilt roads, reconstructed whole cities, and upgraded them too, in the process. High rise buildings begun their works, with Kun drafting out plans and working with multiple engineers to ensure he got it right the first time. 

 

Doyoung worked on the defense, building an army that had numerous incentives, thus attracting people to sign on. 

 

Renjun had graciously taken on a position within the Ministry of Social Affairs, where they resettled people into their new homes, provided healthcare, cleaned the streets, and set up education centres that were once tore down. 

 

The orphans, upon Mark’s insistence, were all granted spaces within boarding schools, to ensure that at least, they had a roof over their heads. 

  
  


Now, most soldiers, or most people really, were baffled at why Mark didn’t want the position as King. 

 

To him, there was no need to explain to them, but with persuasion from Doyoung and Kun, both of whom he can’t refuse, and he had explained truthfully, that he didn’t want the burden of it. He wasn’t especially interested in politics; he thought Doyoung and Kun could do a much better job. 

 

Of course, Doyoung and Kun also convinced him into writing a autobiography, which he didn’t struggle much with, given his way with words and his intellect, and the people were astounded by his recounts, the depth of his thinking, and his passion for taking care of disabled orphans. 

 

They saw the heart of a true King, and they loved him, and thus, even though they all believed he will make one, fine ruler, they respected his decision, and let him go. 

  
  
  
  
  


Mark becomes the head director of the orphanage, though the title doesn’t mean much; he is still the one changing the nappies, nagging at them, teaching them, cooking for them, basically like their parent. 

 

Perhaps it has something to do with that talent of his, to connect with all kinds of people; so besides the boy who Donghyuck had took care of, the other children all cling to him with shining eyes and bright smiles, calling him Baba, instead of Mr. Lee, or Uncle Mark. Mark loves it, as much as he loves each and every one of the children. 

 

The compound Doyoung and Kun gave him, is big enough for the children to play about, and yet not too large, that he will lose track of them, or that they will get lost. It’s a simple, three unit place, with a reasonably large field in front. 

 

The house on the right, is made of hard stone, giving it a classic, solemn look, and it gave the right atmosphere for the children to take classes. Mark certainly can’t teach all of them, with varying ages, alone, so part time employees come in from Mondays to Fridays, to teach the children. Some, out of charity, others, with their situations, have to demand for a pay. 

 

It was then, that Mark had decided to extract the block out into a separate compound and turn it into a school. Since school fees were required, that would be where the bulk of the salary comes from, and it provides a suitable environment, for the children to learn how to interact with others different from them. 

 

Children are like a blank piece of people; all are innocent, and never, is there a child born bad. They can only be  _ taught _ bad. Mark vaguely recalls Doyoung recounting his past to him; and wonders if he had done all those crimes because he was taught to do so, or because there was something innately wrong with him. 

 

Funny, how people can have double standards for themselves. 

  
  
  
  
  


The other two units, are living spaces. One for the children, him, and Donghyuck, and the other hosts the kitchen, the living room, a place to host guests and meetings, when Donghyuck needs to. 

 

To say that the two of them are more than okay, is an understatement. Living together, once again, is a blessing; they began to understand each other more, once again. 

 

Like how Mark likes to draw the curtains open to let surays filter in, and then proceed to dive into the bed to snuggle back up to Donghyuck, who will only whine at the light. 

 

Or like how Donghyuck likes to lie on Mark’s lap, while the latter reads some book, idling, even though he has much to do. 

 

Or like how they both love it, when they settle into each other’s laps, sometimes talking, sometimes kissing, sometimes tracing each other’s features with curious, bashful hands, relearning each other, again and again. 

  
  


They still bicker very much; never lost it in them. They would argue about the smallest of things: what colour should the sofa be, what treats to buy for the children, why Yi Rui, the very first boy that Donghyuck had taken under wing, loves Donghyuck more than Mark. 

 

Sometimes, they argue about more serious matters, like how Donghyuck is always working overtime, or how he is a little too close to certain officials, or how Mark is letting his past eat him up too much. 

 

It doesn’t happen very often, but they both make sure that after every fight, they take a breather; take a lone stroll down the river, or walk around the compound, stargaze a little, calming down, before coming back to find a compromise. Then, have a nice session of some sweet kisses, before they fall asleep. 

 

Because that’s how it is. You fall in love with someone, and you love them very much; but that doesn’t mean there are no disagreements or conflicts. There will always be, because you are two, separate, different individuals, and yet at the same time, part of one unit. Compromises have to be made, whether you like it or not, but what’s important, is that you remind your partner that you love them. 

  
  
  


And that’s the problem, that has Mark biting on his fingernails, as the sun sets, and he watches the dust fly, while the some of the children race around the compound, playing a little game of volleyball; others, tying braids for each other, playing with dolls, or mumbling to themselves, arranging colourful beads. 

 

Him and Donghyuck…...they are far from a normal couple. Normal couples love each other; it’s a mutual thing. But for him and Donghyuck, it has always been one sided. 

 

It has always been Donghyuck loving him more, Donghyuck loving him for a longer time, Donghyuck sacrificing so much for him, Mark doesn’t even  _ know _ where to start returning all these favours. 

 

Many times, Donghyuck has told him that it doesn’t matter, that he should take his time, do whatever he is comfortable with. He has even told him he doesn’t have to love him back, for goodness’ sake; who even  _ does _ that? 

 

Apparently, the person who loves him more than anything else in the world, and the guilt is eating him up. 

  
  


He chews harder on his fingernails, the skin tearing a little, and he has to stop, because one of the children is looking at him with accusatory eyes, wondering why  _ she _ got reprimanded for biting her fingernails, while her adoptive father can. 

  
  


It’s just so difficult for Mark. The more he thinks about it, the more anxious he gets. How long will Donghyuck’s love last for him, if it’s never reciprocated? 

 

He tries, he really does, but he doesn’t know, for sure. He isn’t like Donghyuck, so firm in his love, his belief that he loves Mark. Will he love Donghyuck this much, if Donghyuck didn’t love him back? Will he be as understanding? 

 

Basically, if their positions had switched, and it was Donghyuck who had lost his memories, will Mark love him all the same? It scares him, that he has no definite answer for that. 

 

Based on what others had said, Mark had loved Donghyuck equally, or that’s what they always assure him. But he’s not so sure, and it’s scaring him, a lot. He doesn’t want to hurt Donghyuck; the other’s been through more than enough. Donghyuck deserves a lot more. He deserves a lot more that this,  _ mess of amnesia _ . 

 

Jungwoo had explained to him, that he will never recover some of his memories. Most of his memories involve his past, the traumatic experiences. Few, besides the lantern festival one (yes, he names and mentally files all his memories into a safe space in his brain), involve happy times, beautiful times that he had with Donghyuck. 

 

He desperately wants to remember, wants to remember how to love Donghyuck equally, but he can’t, and probably never will. 

  
  
  
  


“Hey sunshine,” Donghyuck calls as he comes home, a routine. They had even bickered about this, Mark arguing that literally, Donghyuck _ is  _ the full sun, how is _ he _ the sunshine? Anyhow, he lost the argument, and the pet name stuck. 

 

‘Hi.” Mark attempts a lighter tone, but it just crashes ten foot under. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck hums as he captures Mark’s lips, taking his breath away. He always does. And today, it hurts more than it should, because Donghyuck is pouring all his love for him, and he can’t give anything in return. 

 

Mark flinches at the thought, and Donghyuck’s eyes turn darker. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing.” Mark mumbles, as he turns away, dragging his feet into the kitchen. 

 

Mei An, despite being deaf, is always intuitive, and her eyes lift to watch the two disappear into the kitchen. She signals for the others to stay out of their way, an amazing ability to command their attention, despite her lack of voice. 

 

Only Yi Rui never listens to her, scoffing as he trails after them, in need for a hug from Donghyuck, Mei An rolling her eyes as she ignores him, turning back to braid another girl’s hair. 

  
  
  


“Mark, come on. I know you. What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks, gentle but exasperated. 

 

“It’s nothing.” Mark says, his voice breaking, and it’s in no time that the tears turn into seasoning for his cooking, and Donghyuck has to pull him aside, wrapping his arms around him tightly, stroking his hair like he always does, to calm Mark down. 

 

Their foreheads knock as Donghyuck’s fingers flit at his neck, pressing a kiss on his temple, telling him that everything will be okay. That’s what he always says. But will it, really?

  
  


“ _ Baba. _ ” Yi Rui whines, ignoring the fact that his other father is having a hard time. He doesn’t really care, he just wants Donghyuck. 

 

Donghyuck sighs lowly, pressing a promising kiss on Mark’s forehead, just over his scar. He likes to do that, reminding Mark that despite whatever flaws he has, he will loves every single one of them. It only makes things more difficult, for the elder.  

 

“Whatever it is, you can always tell me. You know that right?” Thumbs brushing over Mark’s high cheekbones, pressing another kiss into his lips, short and sweet, though Mark would have preferred for it to be longer; the pleasure could drown out his heartaches. 

 

“I love you, sunshine.” Donghyuck says quietly, lips brushing over the other’s cheek, before he turns to pick Yi Rui up, ruffling the other’s hair as Yi Rui laughs and smiles. 

 

Yi Rui doesn’t talk much, in contrast to Donghyuck who can talk all day long, and yet, they suit each other well, communicating with nods and hugs, though those things, for Yi Rui, are only reserved for his one and only Donghyuck. 

 

Mark sighs as he watches Donghyuck’s smiling eyes, the children swarming around him. His head hangs while his hands clench on the countertop, trying to keep his cries of pain in, wondering if it will ever stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guesses for what disability the little boy has? also i procrastinated on the universe building >< yikes
> 
> anyways, find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	13. I’LL BE YOUR HOME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, but it's what we've been waiting for

**CHAPTER 12: 3272 I’LL BE YOUR HOME**

 

 

“What’s Mongols?” The child, Wen Han, speaks with a little lisp, tongue playing with the unfamiliar term. He has got ADHD, always jumping about, running everywhere, giving Mark headaches. It’s rare that he sits still, eyes glittering with curiosity as he asks Mark to explain to him. Again.    
  


Mark smiles as he strokes the boy’s head, fingers burning through the dirt as he draws a little map. “They come from here.” He draws an ‘x’ a little north. “We are here.” He says, pointing to the south.    
  
“They are blood thirsty people. Excellent swordsmen. Perfect warriors. They’ve got big fur coats, long swords, and the most nasty scars. We never could quite measure up.” Mark animates as he speaks, feeding on the boy’s sparkling eyes.    
  
“Really? Even you?” Wen Han speaks innocently; large, warm, brown eyes. Sharp features that the man could trace all day. High cheeks and deep set eyes that could hold the weight of the world.    
  
“Yes. Even me.”    
  
“Did they hurt you?” His face is already crestfallen, heart aching for others.    
  
“Of course they did. They gave me this.” Mark says quietly, as he allows the boy to trace the scar lining his forehead. Wen Han pouts and Mark laughs, true and heartily, as he pats the child’s cheeks affectionately.    
  
  
“How did you escape?” Wen Han continues to ask, intrigued.    
  
Mark smiles. He has told the story a thousand times over—they all have, really—and still the boy wants to know more. He wants to know what the stories are, where the lines are drawn, where they run parallel, where they meet. Inquisitive. A trait synonymous to intelligence.    
  
  
But, Wen Han has already lost interest, and is running across the courtyard as he flings his arms across a familiar figure, chattery.    
  
  
Mark smiles as he touches the small, delicate wrist; warm lips pressed against his scar.    
  
  
He breathes out, eyelashes fluttering shut against his smooth cheeks.    
  
“Hey, sunshine.”

  
  
  


“Hey.” Mark replies, smiling as Donghyuck cups his jaw to press a full on kiss for him. He’s warm and soothing, tongue gentle as they press playfully on the bottom lip. Mark has warned him way too many times, that they shouldn’t make out in front of the children, but Donghyuck likes to push his limits. 

 

Mark swats him away, laughing as Donghyuck pouts, before breaking into grins as he kisses each of their seven children’s foreheads. They had taken in more, but since it is an orphanage, people around are allowed to adopt as well. While these children lost their parents, many more, have lost their children, and they seek to fill the hole in their hearts, with another child. 

 

Mark of course, runs background checks, and has stringent criterias for them to meet. With the growing economy and excellent work of Doyoung and Kun, most of the families that come to adopt are more than qualified, and Mark lets them go. 

 

Two of course, he will never put up for adoption. It’s selfish, but he loves them too much. 

 

By now, Yi Rui is already six, turning seven and ready for public school, while Mei An is nine, and growing into a beautiful lady. Both of them, have been requested multiple times, but with the same thought in mind, both Donghyuck and Mark had politely declined their requests. They, all of them, have grown attached to each other. It would be hard to let go. 

  
  


“How was work?” Mark asks, casually. It was the end of the week, which means more or less, Donghyuck has cleared most of his work up, and they had some time for themselves. It also means, that Donghyuck would be cooking; he insists, no matter how many times Mark tells him to rest. It’s his way of expressing his love for the children.

 

Donghyuck rolls his sleeves as he hums and shrugs. In truth, he can’t really tell much because most of the information is confidential, but he does give updates on Renjun, Mr. Huang, Doyoung and Kun, just so they keep in touch. 

 

Doyoung and Kun haven’t visited much, but Donghyuck tells Mark that he thinks they will be available for the annual Chinese New Year reunion dinner. Renjun and Mr. Huang had also promised to come, and Jungwoo, Taeil, Chenle and Jisung were on their way as well. 

 

He gossips about the people in his office, loathing some of those brats who still have the noble mindset ingrained in them, and then worries about the economy, but then rejoices about certain trade breakthroughs they had with foreign countries. He shares about how he could get a promotion with the new year, and Mark is nodding a long as he holds his chin on his palm, not really listening, but instead watching the way Donghyuck cooks. 

  
  


Then, it clicked. 

  
  


The way the sun glows off the melanin-rich skin of Donghyuck’s. The way he smiles, the way his teeth shine, the way the corners of his eyes crease as they form crescents. The chopping sounds, hand on his hips as he stirs the soup, humming some tune under his breath.    
  
Guzheng notes floating, the way his fingers pluck nimbly at the strings. The way his lips curve around the mouth of the flute, air blown to produce the lightest melodies. Swirling snow, the soft padding of tiger footsteps.    
  
Heart clenching, heartstrings pulled, his palms balling into fists as the urge to say something he had  _ always  _ wanted to say, but never knew he could.

  
“Hyuck.” Mark chokes out, and the other whips around faster than lightning.    
  
His concerned voice is drowned out as the words are drawn out of the depths on his mind, once lost letters in the vacuum of amnesia, or perhaps always lingering there.    
  
“I love you.” He whispers, eyes locking with warm, brown orbs, like hot chocolate seeping through the body, engulfing it in warmth.    
  
“I love you.” He says it clearer, eyebrows furrowing at the pained expression on Donghyuck’s face.    
  


  
A moment of silence stretches, before Donghyuck gets up from his kneeling position, going back to the chopping board, hands shaking.    
  
“Don’t say something you don’t mean, Mark.” He says quietly, the sounds of knife slicing garlic unrhythmic, hasty, out of place.    
  
Mark’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, standing up as he moves closer to Donghyuck. “I mean it. I......I love you.” He says, shyer, but confident and true. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. I love you.”    
  
The sound of knife hitting the wooden board have halted; Donghyuck leans against the counter, head hung as his arms struggle to hold him up.    
  
His back warms as Mark presses himself flush against him, head hooked on his shoulder, lips near the shell of his ear, as he repeats those same, three words, over, and over, and over again.    
  
Donghyuck has to choke back a sob as he turns around slowly, fumbling lips crashing into Mark’s steadier ones. A hand on his hips ground him to reality; that this isn’t the same dream he was been wishing for a million times over in the past decade or more.    
  
Mark moves slowly, as if trying to spell out each and every letter for Donghyuck, to make it clear that he loves him.    
  
He loves Donghyuck, and now that he has said it out loud, it becomes so much easier. Gone is the bittersweet pain that always crushes his heart; in replacement, is the lightheadedness of loving someone, and being loved by that same person.    
  
His hands move to Donghyuck’s jaw as they get a tad bit more desperate; Donghyuck manoeuvring his arms to loop around Mark’s neck, drawing him impossibly closer as they share the same breath, fingers splayed out on the nape of his neck, pulling lightly at the edges of Mark’s hair.    
  
Just as their lips touch again, the door is slammed opened.    
  
“Baba- oh never mind.” Wen Han chews on his bottom lip at the sight before him. “Er......just so you know, Donghee pooped in his pants again! Er......carry on what you’re doing? Bye!” He chirps as he cover his eyes dutifully, slamming the door shut as he runs out into the compound again.    
  
Donghyuck chuckles as Mark groans, resting his forehead on Donghyuck’s shoulder as their lips slip past each other’s.    
  
“ _ Kids _ .” He complains, earning a light reprimanding hit from Donghyuck as he tsks, turning away, back to the chopping board.    
  
But his boyfriend doesn’t move an inch, and is very confusingly kissing his neck. It clicks, and Donghyuck shakes his head, while Mark rolls his eyes as he dejectedly leaves the comfort of the kitchen.    
  
Why is he always the one changing the nappies?    
  
  
  
  
  
“You should do some of the changing, you know.” Mark says sarcastically as he flops onto the bed after a tiring evening. He had to read the entire 三国演义 three times for all of them to sleep, and then one of the babies started crying so he had to carry her under the stars for a good hour before she fell back to sleep, and now he is here, in their bedroom, way past  _ his _ bedtime.    
  
Donghyuck shrugs as he reads through another report, not really paying much attention to Mark. The elder narrows his eyes as he props himself up on his elbows. “ _ Hyuck _ .” He whines, and the other sighs as he gives him the look, the same look he has when scolding the children. 

 

Mark rolls his eyes, mumbling something, a growing grin on Donghyuck’s face. 

 

“What was that?” He asks, putting down his scroll, while Mark crosses his arms, eyes still on the ceiling, instead of him. 

 

“I said, so much for saying ‘I love you’.” Mark says sarcastically, huffing as he turns his back, Donghyuck laughing as he crashes in, nuzzling his face into his neck. 

 

“You’re so annoying.” Donghyuck breathes out as he straddles Mark’s lap, lips pressing over Mark’s scar, his fingers brushing over it. Mark used to wince at it, now he doesn’t even bat an eye. 

 

“You still love me though.” Mark mumbles indignantly, eyes locking with dark orbs as Donghyuck chuckles, tapping him to signal Mark to sit up. 

 

“Mmhmm.” Donghyuck hums as his lips crash into Mark’s, sighing as Mark sucks on his bottom lip, rough from the get go. It’s messy and hot, their bodies rising in temperature, as Donghyuck threads his fingers through the locks and pulls slightly at them, Mark’s hands holding his middle tight, enjoying the way Donghyuck’s back muscles tense under his touch. 

 

Donghyuck licks Mark’s bottom lip, suddenly vaguely aware that they might be going to fast, parting just a little, foreheads bumping against each other as they catch their breath, both panting from the mere ferocity of it. 

 

“You’re okay?” Donghyuck asks, gently, running his finger over the side of Mark’s face. 

 

“Yea.” Mark nods, assuring him, heart pounding not from fear, but from excitement. 

 

“Kun got a counsellor to come in the other day, remember that official?” Donghyuck nods as he recalls. 

 

“Yea. He taught me how to block out some memories? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s working now though, so can we please continue?” 

 

Donghyuck chuckles at how impatient the other is, swooping in to kiss Mark, slower, gentler, more sensual as he licks Mark’s bottom lip again, tongue flickering as it explores Mark’s mouth, the hands holding his waist, digging into his hip bone, before moving to wrap tighter around him, one hand trailing up his spine to hold his neck. 

 

Donghyuck shivers at the way fingertips tiptoe up his back, whining into Mark’s mouth at the mere touch, panting at the contact. Mark trails his lips down his neck as Donghyuck tilts his head up, a hand cupping at his jaw as Mark bites into a particular spot that has Donghyuck clamping down on his lips, fingers combing through Mark’s hair as he tries to hold himself back from smashing Mark’s open mouth against his neck. 

 

The saliva cooling against his hot skin has him trembling from pleasure, and he flips them around, Mark lying below him while he hovers over, deciding that he should return the favour. He brushes the scar on Mark’s forehead, humming gently as Mark closes his eyes at the touch. 

 

“I love you.” Mark says softly, eyes opening to watch the first of Donghyuck’s tears drop as he hangs his head. He shushes Mark with a kiss on his lips, tasting the saltiness of his tears. 

 

“I know.” Donghyuck replies quietly, lips trailing along Mark’s jaw, the other arching his back into the touch. “I know.” He repeats, marking Mark’s pale neck, completely forgetting the consequences of doing so.

 

His teeth scrape all along Mark’s collarbones, the other writhing under his touch, whining as Donghyuck’s tongue laps to soothe the broken skin, an arm winding around Donghyuck’s neck to pull him closer, encouraging him, the other, thrown over his face as he tries to bite back his little whimpers of pleasure. 

 

“This, okay?” Donghyuck asks, softly, as his fingers land on Mark’s robes, asking for permission to untie them. A brief moment of panic washes over him, and it takes five forehead kisses for him to calm down. 

 

“It’s just me, Mark. It’s me.  _ Your Haechan _ . Okay?” Donghyuck whispers comfortingly, brushing his thumbs over Mark’s cheeks, and the anxiety Mark was trying to swallow down, eventually ebbs away as he nods, hips lifting as Donghyuck peels his clothes away silently and methodically, lips never leaving skin, as first his shirt goes, then his pants, leaving him in only his underwear. 

 

“Just tell me when to stop.” Donghyuck halts his speech as he tilts his head, knowing full well Mark mightn’t tell him so. “Or do you want a safe word?” Donghyuck asks, kissing Mark’s nose. “Red?” Mark asks, fingers playing with Donghyuck’s ears. 

 

The other hums in reply, and continues his work from the collarbone, leaving blooming marks down his chest, Mark arching into the touch, face flushed as he whimpers at the contact, panting at the way Donghyuck’s tongue flicks against his nipples. 

 

“Okay?” Donghyuck asks again, and Mark moans in reply, hips bucking, getting desperate. 

 

“I love you.” Donghyuck whispers against the skin. “Everything about you.” Donghyuck mutters, as his lips trail to the inner thighs, sucking over the sensitive skin, the growing bulge more obvious. 

 

His fingers barely graze over the clothed cock, when Mark’s eyes start open, a flash of a memory passing by. 

 

Long, painted fingernails scraping at his underwear, his panic and anxiety washing over him, ropes cutting his wrists as he tries to resist. 

 

Yet, he doesn’t stop Donghyuck from kissing over his length, biting his lips as anxiety chokes him. 

 

He doesn’t want to ruin it for Donghyuck with his stupid PTSD. He hates it. He hates this part of him, always ruining everything for the other. 

 

Dark eyes fluttering, half lidded, lustful, preying on him. For a brief moment, Donghyuck looks like  _ her _ as he mouths over the hickeys on the inner thighs, and it takes everything for Mark to not flinch and pull away. 

 

Red. 

 

Red, red, _ red. _ He whimpers as Donghyuck trails back up, tensing as Donghyuck’s fingers slip under his underwear. 

 

Red, red,  _ red _ . He balls his fist as the fabric slips off halfway. 

 

“Red.” He chokes out. “Stop. Red. Donghyuck. Hyuck,  _ Hyuck _ , red. Red. I’m sorry.” He mumbles and Donghyuck is panicking as he stops, quickly soothing the other as he apologises again and again, tears welling in his eyes as guilt fills him up. 

 

“Shit, I’m so sorry Mark. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier. Mark, shh, I’m sorry.” Donghyuck’s voice breaks as tears stream down Mark’s face, whimpering as Donghyuck brushes them, heart aching for the other. Why does he always have to ruin everything? 

 

“You didn’t ruin anything, Mark.” Donghyuck says, as if reading his mind. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you okay?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark nods into his neck, bottom lip trembling. 

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ .” Mark tries to apologise again, fingers clenching as they dig into his palm, quickly unwrapping as Donghyuck intertwines his fingers with his. 

 

“Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I love you, and it’s okay, okay? It’s okay, sunshine. Don’t be sorry.” Donghyuck whispers, kissing Mark’s forehead. 

  
  
  
  


“Why don’t you get some sleep?” He says after a while, Mark’s tears stopping as he sniffles a little. He’s dressed in simple shirt and pants, curled under the blanket, nice and warm, while Donghyuck had lighted some jasmine scented candles, making Mark feel at home. 

 

“What about you?” 

 

“What about me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows as he sits on the bed, brushing Mark’s locks. 

 

“Your…...problem.” Mark nods at Donghyuck’s painful hardon. The other blushes as he nervously chuckles. 

 

“It’s okay, it’ll go away soon.” Donghyuck soothes. 

 

“I can help.” Mark mumbles, eyes turning to meet Donghyuck’s shocked ones.

 

“I said I can help.” Mark says more confidently. He never did this with his mistress, he couldn’t, so he doesn’t think it would be as jarring or problematic. 

 

“Are you sure?” Donghyuck says doubtfully, as Mark shifts to let Donghyuck sit comfortably on the bed, legs spread while Mark nods, carefully peeling away the other’s undergarments. 

  
  


Donghyuck hisses as Mark licks the head, unintentionally pulling at Mark’s locks. “Shit, sorry, I- _ hah _ , wait a minute.” Donghyuck bites his lips as he shifts into a more comfortable position, hating how long Mark’s eyelashes are as he looks up through them. 

 

“You can pull at my hair.” Mark says simply, reaching to kiss Donghyuck, his taste on his lips, Donghyuck moaning at it. 

 

“I like it.” Donghyuck can feel his stomach churning at those words, and he curses as Mark’s tongue flickers around the head, never going down or taking him in. 

 

He doesn’t want to rush him, but it is getting too much, Donghyuck gripping the sheets in an effort to control himself to not push Mark down. 

 

“Mark.” He whines, and the other smiles cheekily, happy that Donghyuck’s finally given in. 

 

The minute his lips wrap around Donghyuck’s cock, the younger lets out a choked moan, head hitting against the wall as he tries to keep quiet, well aware that the children are just next door. 

 

“Hah…...fuck.” Donghyuck curses as slowly but surely, his cock touches the back of Mark’s throat. The elder doesn’t even gag, simply dragging his lips up and down, warm engulfing Donghyuck, in contrast to the cool air as Mark drags his lips up.

 

“How-ngh, fuck, are you so-hah,  _ god _ ,  good at this?” Donghyuck asks through whimpers, panting as sweat drips from his forehead. Mark attempts to shrug, coy as he lets Donghyuck deep throat him, Donghyuck cursing at the sight of it, Mark’s fingers digging into his thighs, sure to leave marks. 

 

“Mark, Mark,” Donghyuck says urgently, the other nodding, giving him permission as white spurts into the elder’s mouth, Donghyuck hating how hot it looks, that cum and saliva are dribbling down Mark’s mouth. 

 

“You did so well, sunshine. You did so well.” Donghyuck pants as their mouths clash messily, bitter and salt adding to the sweetness of Mark’s mouth. “I love you.” Donghyuck says as pants, coming down from his high, closing his eyes, tired.

  
  
  
  


“I love you too.” Mark whispers, when they had cleaned up, and Donghyuck is curled against him, sleeping soundly, words told to the moonlight, warm happiness filling the air, as he kisses Donghyuck’s neck. 

 

“I love you.” He says, Donghyuck mumbling in his sleep. He’s cute like this. 

 

“I love you.” He doesn’t think he will stop saying it, ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL WAYV DEBUTED IM SO HAPPPPPYYPPYPYPY
> 
> anyways, find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty)  
> and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me! thankyou for the kudos, comments and ccs frm last chapter!


	14. EPILOGUE

**CHAPTER 13: EPILOGUE**

 

 

In the end, things work out. They always do. People get lost all the time, memories fade, scars pretend they don’t exist, and we all lose a little of ourselves sometimes. Whether it is because it was stolen, or because the world whirls and blurs, and catches us in it’s mayhem, there is no running away from loss. 

  
  


Life is never a straight line. There are always ups and downs, always losses and gains, sometimes one more than the other. Does it mean we give up? Does it mean we lose hope? Not necessarily. 

 

There are sure to be pros and cons to everything. Donghyuck got his Mark back; but what did he give in exchange? His heart, his time, his efforts. 

 

How much did he lose? 

 

Starting from the very beginning, with his sister, his father, the loss of a maternal love; Johnny, Jaehyun, Ten, Taeyong —people who cared for him when others said he will never be good enough.

 

Then, Lucas, Yuta, Sicheng, who had been his comrades, and cared for him even though they may have been a tad bit harsh. 

 

Finally, MaMa, who gave him the love and care he needed, who gave him warm hugs when he shivered from cold grief, who loved him even though he was not her own. 

 

The point is, despite the losses,  _ is it worth it? _

 

Is it worth it to carry on living? Is it worth it to chase after someone that might never love him back, after someone that may never remember? Is it worth it? 

 

_ How would you know, if you never tried?  _

  
  
  
  
  


So many times, people think, it’s not worth it, nobody cares, nobody loves, nobody knows. 

 

Perhaps. Sometimes, we turn ourselves into the monsters that sink daggers into others people’s hearts, and we don’t realise, until it’s too late. 

  
  


When Donghyuck’s biological mother turns up at his doorstep, to say he was surprised was an understatement. Mark had grudgingly let her in, after knowing the kind of torment she had given Donghyuck, but it was Donghyuck’s call at the end of the day, so he let it be. 

 

In the end, she still left cursing him, and everyone there, Donghyuck’s heart breaking, but the shattered pieces held together, as Mark holds him close, whispering words of love over and over again, as the override of pleasure made his mind blank. 

  
  


Family. 

 

Family can be the most wonderful gift, and the most dangerous curse. She is still his mother, no matter. He can’t curse at her; she is family, afterall, but it brings him so much pain. 

  
  


Family, is perhaps the thing we can never have control over. They are people you can never choose, can never change, at least biologically. 

  
  


Yet here, with Mr. Huang, Jungwoo and Taeil discussing some medical issues as they sip their wine; Chenle and Jisung laughing as their fingers intertwine; Doyoung and Kun smiling as they dine with Renjun so formally, it has the others spluttering in laughter. Donghyuck and Mark sigh as Yi Rui and Mei An bicker  _ yet again _ , but they know deep down, the two cherish each other very much. 

 

So perhaps, family  _ can _ be chosen. 

 

Perhaps family can be chosen, can be picked, can be made. Even when everything is taken away, everything is destroyed, perished, forgotten, a mere part of the yellowed pages in lost books, we can make  _ something _ out of it. 

 

And it is a beautiful thing: the smell of spices filling the air, warmth engulfing them even though the winter is just thawing and the earth has yet to reach spring; soups scooped and distributed, the lively chatter of adults, blending with the chaos of children, soft hands, affable eyes, rosy cheeks. 

  
  


It’s beautiful, what love can do. 

  
  
  


Love is one of the most powerful emotions, along with pain and hurt. Coincidentally, the three work as ying and yang, never without the other. One always leads to the other; they are two sides of the same coin.

 

It is not unfair. It is the balance of life. Too much of something will make you sick, overdosed, unrealistic. Life is never a straight road; if there are ups, there will be downs. 

 

And thus, is it worth it? Of course it is. The weighing scale will balance out eventually. 

  
  


So don’t give up, and don’t forget, that if the pages we write, are burnt, lost and forgotten, you can always write again.

  
  


_ And If you ever get lost, you will always come back.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anddddd we have reached the end! it's been a long ass ride but this was incredibly fun and entertaining and stress-relieving to write. i will have to say that the comments on this fic has been encouraging and heartening; it's what keeps me going, so thankyou so much!! the cuter, shorter 'comments' through ccs are also something i look forward to after every update. i love you guys and thankyou for reading this series thus far!! 
> 
> if you want to follow me for more works, subscribe to my user or find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty)  
> and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) sometime!


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